Uncharted
by strikeachord
Summary: Kurt Hummel, a freshman at William McKinley High School, decides to join the infamous Cheerios, captained by the attractive-yet-insolent Blaine Anderson. Eventual romance...a Cheerio!Klaine fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee/any of the characters.**

**Rated M for language, sexual content, etc.**

* * *

Kurt stood in the middle of the hallway in his fresh new Cheerios uniform, still trying to navigate his way to his science classroom. As a small freshman in a school dominated by upperclassmen, Kurt was still trying to get used to the transition. He joined the Cheerios as an attempt to maybe make some new acquaintances, as well as to get an extracurricular activity on his resume and to get some type of physical activity. And Christ (or whatever divine deity there was), was Coach Sylvester hard! He'd done the week of intense practice that summer and was so exhausted by the end of practice that he'd only have the energy to perform his moisturizing routine before he crashed. His dad was not happy with how hard he was being worked, but Kurt pulled through and somehow got picked to be a part of the cheer squad, and eventually Burt came to accept that his son would be cheering on the sideline of the football field rather than playing on it, which was what he'd originally envisioned for his son. Then again, Kurt also came out of gay just a few months prior, so it wasn't like Burt couldn't expect Kurt to do these different types of things. Still, his father supported him, so Kurt continued with the Cheerios.

He wasn't even sure how he even got on the team, but he suspected that Coach believed having a gay boy on the team would help please judges at competitions for having such a diverse team, but mostly because he wouldn't care about touching the ladies on the squad. He hadn't met anyone else on the team yet, or the captain, since she hadn't been chosen yet. He suspected Quinn Fabray would be chosen, since she seemed to be Coach Sylvester's poster girl. Kurt hoped that maybe one day he'd somehow find his way up the Cheerios hierarchy and possibly be considered for captainship when he'd be a senior. _Based on the fact that Coach calls you Porcelain, I doubt that's going to happen_, he thought bluntly. He wasn't sure if she even knew his name. No one really knew his name…yet.

"D-19, D-20…where's D-21?" He talked to himself as he scanned the classroom numbers, trying to find the room as people pushed past him. The bell for third period was going to ring soon; all thoughts of the Cheerios had left his mind as he focused on finding his class. It was only his second day at McKinley, yet he still felt incredibly stupid for not remembering where it was. He found English just fine, and French…he looked down the hall and felt his eyes widen at a new sight that had entered his vision.

The boy was wearing a bright red Cheerios uniform, just like Kurt, but he filled it out much better than him, which led Kurt to believe the mysterious Cheerio was at least a junior. He strutted down the hall with a charismatic smile slapped on his smooth, impeccable face, oblivious to the people clearing the way for him to walk through. He walked at a nimble, graceful pace, like he could easily burst into a running start to a handspring or something. His raven-colored hair was thick with gel, gleaming in the artificially-lit halls; his eyes emitted a different kind of light, a funny little glint hinting that he was keeping some kind of secret. _Wow, he's_ gorgeous, Kurt thought, completely mesmerized by the stranger.

Kurt brought his gaze down to the boy's toned arms that were swinging at his sides. There was no doubt in his mind that the boy worked out, and worked out hard—he definitely could hold Kurt up easily with both hands. _No wonder he's a Cheerio_. He held something in his hands, a scrap of scarlet fabric that matched the uniform. Kurt wondered what it could be; a swab of material for a new uniform? A matching handkerchief (that did not seem plausible, although Kurt wouldn't mind having one)?

Upon further inspection, Kurt realized that it was, in fact, a _thong_.

Kurt felt his entire face become engulfed in flames. He was appalled at the thoughts that were going through his mind. He'd be in the locker room with that boy, in the same room while they undressed for practice; the boy would be practically naked, just wearing that skimpy crimson-colored—**_stop_**, he scolded himself. He'd never had _those_ types of thoughts, and was disgusted and slightly surprised with himself.

"Can I help you?" Kurt realized that a Latina girl was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips. "You look like a little lost freshman lamb. If you don't get out of the middle of the hallway in point-2-5 seconds, I'm going to sacrifice you to Satan so I can get you out of the way _and_ that Blaine kid out of my position of head cheerleader," she seethed, staring at the same boy who had stopped to chat with a blonde-haired boy at his locker.

"Yeah, can you tell me where D-21 is?" Kurt asked timidly. _Head cheerleader?_

"_Dios_, you even sound like one. Although I did see that look on your face as you were checking out Anderson there, so I know you're not innocent. C'mon, it's just around the corner." She grabbed his arm, her fingers closing around his wrist: Kurt could feel his pulse quickly jumping out against her skin. _Was I really that obvious? _"I'm Santana, and I will be your tour guide today. You should know that I'm only doing this because you're a Cheerio, right," she glanced back at him, a smirk on her face. Kurt nodded quickly as they approached the room, wishing that wasn't so shy so he could ask about what it was like being a Cheerio, if everyone was somewhat nice, and whether the practices would get any easier or not. They passed by the boy Kurt guessed was Blaine. He thought he saw Blaine glance at the two of them as they walked past him.

"Okay, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she halted in front of a room that was somewhat hidden by the trophy case of all of the Cheerios' many awards. "See, now when you have to go to this class, you'll know that it's here by the case with all of our past achievements to intimidate you."

"I'm sure that our new member here will help us to add many more trophies in this coming year," a congenial voice called out from behind him. Kurt turned around—it was Blaine. _Nodirtythoughtsnodirtythoughtsnodirtythoughts_…

"Well well well, hello there Mr. I-Like-Dick-and-Taking-People's-Rightful-Spot-as-C aptain. How are you doing on this fine day that will soon go down in history as the day that I kick your ass?" Santana spat. Blaine smiled at her, and then turned to Kurt, who was wondering if the implication behind "Mr. I-Like-Dick" was true. If it was, Kurt was sure to have a problem.

"Don't mind Santana, she's just a bit jealous of the fact that I am the deserving winner of that position," he raised his triangular eyebrows, his smile turning into a little smirk. Kurt giggled. _What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?!_ Blaine gave him a funny look, and turned back to Santana, who was fuming. "Sorry, Santana, Coach doesn't like girls who feel the need to enhance themselves," he glanced down at her chest, "and I'm just more skilled than you. You bet your ass that I'm going to crack the whip on you now that I'm captain. And you," he turned to Kurt, "welcome to the Cheerios. Here's a word of free advice that you're lucky I'm giving you: be prepared to get kicked off at any given moment, um…what's your name?" He extended his hand.

"Kurt," he answered, taking it—but there was something already in it, hanging from his thumb. "_Oh_," he unlatched his hand from Blaine's, feeling his cheeks flush yet again, becoming a color comparable to the thong he just touched. _Blaine's thong_.

"Whoah, what is _that_ for? I didn't realize you were a dirty little whore," Santana grabbed for the clothing, but Blaine whisked it away, tutting Santana.

"Special orders from Coach that I wear it. Can't have panty lines, right? Babe," Blaine turned to Kurt, who had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from openly reacting to how Blaine addressed him, "if I were you, I'd ask Coach for one. Also, I wouldn't talk about being a whore if I were you, Santana." Blaine simply turned on his heel and walked away, ambling down the hall with the small red scrap dangling from his hand proudly.

"Well, I'm definitely going to kick his _culo_ now," Kurt heard Santana say as she walked away in the opposite direction. Before Kurt could react, the bell rang, causing him to jump into the classroom.

"You're Kurt, right?" his teacher asked as he searched for a seat in the filled classroom. He nodded, heat rising to his cheeks. "Okay, Kurt, you can take that seat next to… Rachel, is that right?" Kurt could hardly suppress his groan as he approached the empty chair next to Rachel Berry, who was waving emphatically at him. Yes, Rachel was his friend, but she was not the type of person you'd like to sit with in class. Sure enough, right as he sat down, there was a folded-up sheet of paper waiting for him. He sighed as he took set his things down and opened it, anger and embarrassment bubbling in his core as he read what Rachel scrawled next to her signature gold star:

_Who was that smoking guy you were talking to?! _

Kurt took off the gold star and stuck it to Rachel's binder, ripping up the note. "I'll tell you later," he whispered through his clenched teeth, and began to pay attention to the teacher, not wanting to start off the school year on the wrong note by answering Rachel.

Eventually she gave up and left him alone, but Kurt knew that he wouldn't be able to escape her since they had gym together the next period. Once the bell rang, he quickly stuffed his belongings in his bag and hitched it over his back, trying to buy some time so he could come up with an explanation for her.

"Kurrrtttt wait up!" Rachel whined, rushing to his side. Kurt groaned as she pulled on the back of his uniform. "Who _was_ that?" She looked up at him brightly, awaiting his answer. "I wouldn't mind if you introduced me to him, you know…"

"He's the captain of the Cheerios and completely out of the question. I think he's gay, so don't even think about it, but there is no way he'd ever be interested in me. No. Way. There's nothing else to tell, so let's just get to class and drop it, okay? Why don't you go pine over Finn or something," he grunted, remembering that last night he was the one doing that as he went through Finn's pictures on Facebook. He'd had a crush on him for ages, but Finn seemed to pale in comparison to Blaine Anderson. He'd never really had _those_ thoughts about Finn, either, so something had to be said for Blaine. _I never expected that I'd have a crush on someone within the first week of high school_, Kurt observed, _this is absolutely ridiculous._

"Kurt!" Rachel slapped his arm. "How am I supposed to drop it? You're both Cheerios, probably the only boys as well, and you're both gay, and I think you should go for it!"

"Don't make crazy assumptions, Rachel. He's an upperclassman. I am a freshman. We are below the totem pole; we are the Untouchables. There is only a slim chance that he'd ever want to be with me, and that would only be to _get in my pants_," he hissed the last half of the sentence, his face heating up.

"Oh my God, _Kurt!_" Rachel slapped him again with more force, her mouth open in surprise at the statement. "I've never heard you talk that way! I guess high school really has tainted your innocent mind, even though it has only been two days," Rachel wiggled her fingers at Kurt and walked away, disappearing behind the door of the girl's locker room. Kurt stared longingly at the door, wishing he could change in there instead of being subjected to changing amongst _boys_. He sighed in defeat and walked towards the boy's locker room, preparing himself as he entered the room.

His nose crinkled as he took in the potent mix of sweat and cologne. _It's only fourth period; imagine what it's going to be like when you go to practice_, Kurt groaned. He found his locker towards the back of the room, squeezing his way past half-naked guys of all grades (_don't look don't look don't look_—_well, it's not like any of them are that attractive, actually_), and opened it, welcoming the fresh scent of the lavender diffuser he left in there next to his neatly-folded gym clothes. He quickly began to change out of his clothes, hoping that no one would look at his lanky build. As he took off his shoes and pants, he was surprised to find a thin layer of toned muscle covering his thighs, along with the occasional bruise. Obviously the hard workouts from practice were paying off. He could feel his new arm and back muscles flexing as he pulled off his uniform top and replaced it with his gym shirt.

"Porcelain!" _Oh no_, Kurt thought as a bunch of heads turned in the direction of the loud female voice. He recognized it immediately, dread churning in his stomach. _Why is she in here?_

"Yes, Coach?" He said shakily as Sue Sylvester approached him. She had something in her hands, but he couldn't see what it was.

"My right-hand gay informed me that you weren't properly equipped. Catch," she threw a red scrap of cloth at Kurt; thankfully, he caught it, and felt his eyes pop out of his skull as he examined the undergarment. "Anderson, get your butt over here. I don't care if it's naked or not." Her call was answered as Blaine stepped out from the corner. Kurt was relieved to see that he was, in fact, completely dressed. The length of his shorts, however, should have been illegal. Kurt was pretty sure they were the shortest running shorts in existence. He dragged his attention back to Coach Sylvester, who started to talk again.

"I can't have panty lines, Lady Hummel. I'm disappointed that you didn't ask me before when you got your uniform, as you should have known that. Yes, I forgot. I make mistakes. Very, very rarely though. Very rarely. Let's hope that putting you on the team wasn't a mistake. I want to see you do a hundred push-ups after practice because of this mistake. No, your Captain here will make sure you do it. Anderson, I want you to take video evidence, okay? I feed on the sight of struggle."

"Well, why can't you be there?" Kurt sputtered angrily, mortified at the fact that Blaine would have to witness his lack of upper body strength.

"Whoah, there, tiger. You're a feisty one, I like that. To answer your question, which you're lucky I'm actually responding to you because normally I'd need you to sign a contract for press release and such, but to tell you the truth…I'd rather be doing my local news segment than watch you two basically shoot a gay porno." She shrugged her shoulders. "Now go put that thong on, and some pants. Get out of my sight; your ivory complexion is blinding me." Kurt nodded and sped towards the bathroom stalls, thankful to finally escape his coach and Blaine. He realized that he hadn't been wearing any pants once Coach mentioned it, and felt his stomach drop. _Blaine probably thinks I'm such an idiot. A debilitated, rude _freshman_._

Once he was inside the stall, he took a gander at the lingerie in his hands, still unbelieving of what he was about to do. He never thought he'd wear a thong, especially not for school. Kurt was pretty sure that a coach couldn't tell you what undergarments to wear, but he figured that he didn't want to piss her off, because she would definitely make his life living hell.

Reluctantly, Kurt peeled off his briefs, quickly pulling on the new garment (he hoped that it was clean) since he was uncomfortable with how bare he was in a room full of guys, despite the fact that he was concealed behind the defaced walls of the bathroom. He grimaced as the fabric awkwardly accommodated him in the front and settled in the back. _How do girls do this_, he wondered as he adjusted the thong, still getting used to the new fit.

_How does_ Blaine _do this_, a small voice chimed in, and he immediately wiped the thought away. He was sick of how his mind had immediately changed from baby penguin to sex fiend in a matter of an hour.

Kurt put his gym shorts on, kind of freaked out at how the polyester bottoms felt against his naked ass. He took in a deep breath and left the stall, swaggering through the maze of boys to get back to his locker, which he stuffed his underwear in. Only after he'd locked everything inside did he let out a long sigh.

Soon enough, it was time to leave the locker room and get to class. Kurt quickly walked out into the gym and spotted Rachel standing on the other side of the room with the rest of his class. He ignored his need to readjust his thong as he pranced towards her, feeling the need to indulge all that had just occurred-

Until he blindly knocked into someone. Someone with impossibly short-shorts, luxuriously toned arms and legs, and gelled hair with the consistency of cement. Blaine had been standing on the outskirts of a group of juniors when Kurt accidently knocked into his side. He gave Kurt a look of contempt as the freshman stumbled away, ducking his head in mortification. Before he could say anything, Kurt rushed to Rachel's side.

"Can I just die right now," he groaned as he cowered behind her. Rachel simply laughed.

"What is up with you? You're walking kind of funny."

Kurt quickly launched into his story as they waited for their teacher to arrive, resisting the urge to glance up in Blaine's direction to see what he was doing. Rachel squealed when he told her that he wasn't wearing any pants when Blaine walked over (he still hadn't told her the biggest news); Kurt hastily threw his hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, hoping to not draw that much attention.

"Promise to not make a sound when I tell you this, okay? Please compose yourself," he gave his friend a second to relax, and she nodded her head a few seconds later, signaling that she was ready. He leaned in and whispered in her ear: "I guess it's required that when you're a Cheerio, you have to wear a thong, and that's why Coach and Blaine cornered me," he stepped away, hanging his head.

"You—you're wearing?" Rachel asked, and he nodded. "Oh God, I mean…I wear one from time to time, but guys wearing thongs…isn't that weird? Okay, okay, I don't need details, never mind. Why you're a Cheerio, I don't really know, Kurt." Before he could explain to her why he could explain all of the reasons why he needed to be one, she shook her head, and the two of them walked over to the gathering herd of freshmen in their gym class, since their teacher had finally arrived. Unable to control himself, Kurt looked over his shoulder to find Blaine. Of course, he was jogging in the other direction, his shorts rising almost to the point where it left Kurt little to the imagination.

Kurt hated how that boy made him feel, physically. He wasn't sure of what to make of his attitude, since he'd only had one small conversation with him, yet he could not deny the strange, unfamiliar feelings that started to settle in his stomach whenever Blaine was around.

* * *

"Hey, kiddo, how was school today?" Burt asked as Kurt languidly climbed into his car after a grueling practice. He grunted an unintelligible response, throwing his things in the back, afraid that his arms would detach from his sockets. "C'mon, Kurt, it's only the second day of high school, you can't already be a typical teenager."

"Sorry, it's just…it's been a long day." Kurt sighed, reflecting on what had happened at practice. He'd hid in the corner of the locker room, searching for Blaine in the ocean of football players. A few of them gave him strange looks as he filled his water bottle, but he swiftly scurried away to get to practice.

There he met most of the other Cheerios outside at the football field, including the girl he met earlier in the day. Santana hadn't said anything to him, but she gave him a look. He then saw Coach Sylvester strut into the room with Blaine tagging along. He didn't look at Kurt, which was rather unsurprising since Kurt was all the way in the back of the crowd of Cheerios when they gathered around their coach. She'd instructed them on what to do during the practice, which would be the half-time routine for football games and the pyramid, and that she and Blaine would watch them. Kurt did as he was told, and struggled to keep up with the routine since he was still sore from the day before (he wasn't even sure what normal muscles felt like). Regardless, he still did okay, since Coach only singled him out two times. Blaine, on the other hand, didn't even say a word. He walked past Kurt a couple times, but didn't even look at him.

Blaine, however, couldn't ignore him at the end of practice.

"Blaine! You and Lady over here, next to me," Coach had called out. Both of them obeyed. "The rest of you are dismissed. Sloppy work today, girls, I'm disappointed. Get out of my sight." The other girls gave them looks, but they left. Santana stayed for an extra second, narrowing her eyes at Blaine, but Coach Sylvester called her out. "I know you're jealous, Diabla, and you know my reasons." She mimicked feeling up her chest and shooed Santana away, who turned around furiously and stormed off the field. Kurt had little time to watch her, though, since a hand was then pressed on his back.

"On the floor, Lady." The hand pushed down lightly; Kurt figured that it was Blaine's since his coach was too far away for it to be her's. He got down on his hands and knees and looked up to see Sue Sylvester with an actual camera, showing Blaine how to use it.

"…and this is how you start it; I think there's enough memory to capacitate the entirety of his torture. You press the button again when he's done. I want all angles, all right? I'm going to watch this tomorrow morning while I drink my protein shake in the teacher's lounge, and this will get me ready for the day, knowing that someone else is paying for my mistake, and that I don't have to. Thanks, Anderson." She left, and it was just the two of them together, the football team still holding practice on the other side of the field.

"Are you going to start or not; I haven't got all day," Blaine said impatiently, and Kurt immediately got into his best push-up position, which he knew was completely wrong. "Okay, go," he urged, and Kurt lowered himself to the floor, his muscles protesting slightly. After just ten measly push-ups, he already felt like collapsing, but he trudged on, not wanting to show weakness around Blaine. He felt so awkward with the boy practically breathing down his neck—with a video camera, no less—while he gasped for air, his face a fluorescent red and his entire body shaking. It seemed like hours had passed when he finally reached ninety, and his arms were very close to giving out. He completed half of the ninety-first and fell to the ground.

"Christ, only ninety-one? I can do one hundred in my sleep. Let's get going, Porcelain, the football team's going to be done before you are at this rate," Blaine spat. Disgusted at his tone, Kurt got back up and shot him a dirty look: Blaine was standing over him, staring at the screen of the camera. His figure was dark against the glare of the sun. Kurt turned to face the ground again and did two more, and his arms gave out again.

"Is this punishment for me, too, having to watch a weakling freshman do the easiest thing in the world?" the captain groaned. Anger pulsed through Kurt's veins, and he got up again, doing another five very quickly, and slowly doing the last two.

"Two…one…ah, finally, freedom!" Blaine turned off the camera and rushed over to grab his things, not even saying goodbye to Kurt, who was lying face-first in the turf. Miniscule black rubber balls stuck to his slick skin as he lay there in his weakened state, not sure if he'd be able to get up.

Some time later, he'd gathered enough strength to get to his feet, and he dragged himself to retrieve his bag and call his dad for a pick-up. Soon enough, he'd made it to the parking lot, just in time to see Burt pull in about ten minutes after the call.

"So, what do you want for dinner tonight?" Burt pulled Kurt from his thoughts, trying to divert his attention from the torture he'd endured that his dad wasn't even aware of.

"Sleep," Kurt mumbled, already feeling himself dozing off.

"Wow, I guess cheerleading really is hard. If you have nothing else to do, then, I want you to shower first, do your moisturizing routine or whatever, and get to bed then, okay? Just…try to eat something, please."

"Whatever, Dad."

"Oh God, I really have lost you."

"Dad!"

* * *

"Kurt," a disembodied voice said. Kurt was in the locker room, stripping out of his gym clothes. The room was empty, an unusual sight. Kurt stopped taking off his clothes and began to search through the rows of lockers for the familiar voice. He heard a shower trickling in the distance, and headed towards it, even though he knew he shouldn't. The room seemed so much bigger than how he'd remembered it, but Kurt ignored that as he finally approached the shower stall.

"God, you took so long to get here," Kurt peered into the stall to see a boy's bare, muscular back. He knew he should leave, since he could get in a lot of trouble for looking at a naked boy in the shower, but his feet were cemented to the ground. Kurt's eyes trailed down the exquisite curve of his spine, down to the small dimples of his lower back, down to—

Kurt opened his eyes, engulfed by darkness, except for a light being emitted from his left. He turned to see the numbers 4:21 blaring in red at him from his alarm clock. He groaned and turned his head back to the other side, a peculiar feeling spreading through his nerves. His entire body felt like lead, especially…

"_Oh_," he exclaimed as his sheets brushed against his half-hard erection. He'd had _that _kind of dream, about _Blaine,_ who was the last person he wanted to think about in that way. Yes, it was undeniable that he was attractive, but after practice Kurt had decided that he was the biggest douchebag to ever walk the Earth, and that he would not take an interest in him any longer. He was pretty sure that by the end of his shower, in which he'd done a lot of thinking, he'd gotten over his small crush.

Kurt closed his eyes again and hoped that he'd dream about working at _Vogue_ or something rather than seeing a fantasy-naked-Blaine—again.

_Oh God, I'm going to have to see him in school today_, was his last thought before everything vanished into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone! Here I am with a new fic...there aren't enough Cheerio!Klaine fics out there, so I decided to contribute.

I've kind of written this out of order, so the next chapter won't be out for awhile. You should read my other fic, Until Next Time, in the meantime.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! Enjoy!

* * *

The next day at school was brutal, considering that Kurt could hardly feel his arms, aside from the stabbing soreness that would come whenever he lifted them for too long. Everything hurt, but not as intensely as his biceps, triceps, and wrists—he was sure that he was going to get carpal tunnels as he quickly washed his thong right after he woke up, feeling the ache light his muscles and bones on fire. The painkillers he took that morning before going to school that morning were bound to wear off quickly. Kurt had explained to Rachel that he'd busted his arms at practice the day before-he didn't want to have to explain anything more than that, specifically Blaine, because she was bound to ask him. Thankfully, she offered to lend him a hand (no pun intended) and carry his things for him to all of the classes they shared. He'd only have to carry them to two classes and after school, which he was dreading. His arms could hardly handle writing, let alone lifting it for a minute. He was sure that if he had to do even a cartwheel at Cheerios practice, his arms would fall out of their sockets.

Rachel was not, however, that openly generous, as Kurt knew.

"So, I'm doing you this really nice favor, literally bending my back for you-couldn't you take classes with a lighter load," she grimaced as she hitched his sinking bag up a little higher while the walked to lunch, "anyway, I think I'm doing you a favor by telling you that there's a new club I can-I mean we can be the stars of."

"Go on," Kurt said, wincing as she took his weak arm in hers. He rolled his eyes at Rachel's blatant self-centered mannerisms—she had always been that way, yearning to be the star of the show. Secretly, though, he envied her for this ambition. He'd never been the center of anything, really.

"Earlier today, I was going to my Spanish class when I passed by the bulletin board for extracurricular activities. Now, you know that I've joined nearly every club imaginable, but I couldn't help but notice a new flyer. Guess what it was?"

"I can't guess, Rachel," he said, wishing that she'd end the dramatics as they entered the cafeteria.

"It was an audition list. For a glee club!" _A glee club-like singing?_

More than anything in the world, Kurt loved performing. He may be shy in real life, but the stage did something to him where he felt invincible. He could take on a whole other persona, change from being a fifteen-year-old, scrawny homosexual to a superstar. His absolute favorite thing to do was sing. It was partially why he'd joined the Cheerios: they performed in front of thousands.

"That sounds great, but I don't think I can do it. I'm committed to the Cheerios; I think Coach will have my head and other parts of my body if I took up another extracurricular activity." She pouted at him. He wasn't even sure why she was telling him about this: usually Rachel Berry wanted the spotlight for herself.

"Well, the least you can do is audition. I'm sure that whoever is in charge of the club will take everyone's other activities into consideration when scheduling meetings…although there weren't any names on it yet. I'm sure that loads of people are going to try out!" They found themselves in the freshmen-inhabited section of the cafeteria, where the underclass men herded around the table like cattle. Rachel and Kurt sat down in what could be considered the most secluded area. Kurt waited as Rachel dug through his bag for his lunch, which she eventually found and handed to him, and then searched for her fruit salad in her bag.

"Why don't you just buy one from the cafeteria?" Kurt asked as she pulled the container out. "It's pretty cheap, and they give you more than that."

"I don't want the lunch ladies touching it after they handled slaughtered chickens, cows, pigs-"

"Rachel, I'm pretty sure that 85% of that food isn't real."

"Whatever. You're just trying to avoid the other topic you knew would come up, and which I'd like to discuss now: Blair." Of course Rachel wanted to talk about that. Ever since Kurt came out, all she really wanted to talk to him about was boys—and herself, but that was normal.

"It's Blaine," Kurt corrected her a little too quickly, and grimaced at his mistake.

"So you do like him!" Rachel shrieked, causing a few heads to turn. Kurt gave them sympathetic glances and then faced Rachel with narrowed eyes.

"Shut up, Rachel! There is no way in hell I'd like a guy like him. He's an absolute dickhead."

"Kurt, language!" Rachel covered her ears in protest. _As if she'd never heard the word before_, Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, it's the best word to describe him with." He looked around the cafeteria, hoping that no one else could hear him. It seemed that Blaine wasn't in their lunch period, which was the most important thing. "Seriously, he's a jerk. That kid thinks he's better than everyone: he stands next to Coach with his nose in the air, berating those who are under him. He really needs a reality check, and an attitude adjustment. No one likes him, not just because they're jealous that he's cheer captain. Apparently everyone's skipping out on the practice he's holding on Tuesday, since Coach is going to be out for an interview or something-I think I'm going to join them."

Rachel finished her mouthful of grapes, cantaloupe, and strawberries. "Although I don't usually commend this sort of thing, and this is probably never going to happen again…I agree. That's the day that Glee auditions are being held, so it works out perfectly. I just think you should tell your coach that you're trying out."

"Oh, I don't know," Kurt said nervously. Even the thought of talking to Coach Sylvester scared the bejesus out of him. It didn't help that he already had a bit of social anxiety.

"It'll take, like, two minutes, it's not a big deal. It can't be that bad." Kurt shrugged his shoulders, wishing that she'd change the subject. "I have to say, I'm disappointed that you think of Blaine that way." Not exactly the subject he wanted to discuss…

"You just want a love life to talk about," Kurt replied with a snarky tone.

Rachel's eyes glazed over; she had a dreamy expression on her face. "One day, Finn will like me. One day."

_Oh, yeah. Finn._ Kurt didn't comment: he continued to nibble at his sandwich, which he could only eat in short increments or else his arms would give out. It wasn't that he didn't like Finn anymore, because he seemed to be a lot nicer than that douchebag Anderson (although he had heard that Finn was not the brightest), he just kind of lost some of his physical appeal. He was a little too tall for his liking. Anyway, Rachel liked him as well, so it was kind of weird to like him.

"Oh well." Rachel dragged them both away from their thoughts. "So, you wanna go shopping later? I need a dress for homecoming!"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the reason why he needed to go. "Actually, I was thinking about that. I need to, um, get some more...you know."

"I don't know," Rachel said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Shut up," Kurt grumbled. "If I didn't have to, I wouldn't. Change of subject: what do you think of that English essay we've already been assigned?"

* * *

Kurt let out a sigh of relief as the last bell of the day rang. There was an announcement that Cheerios practice was cancelled, so he did not have to worry about the possibility of his arms falling off, but there was a meeting after school in N-13, so he'd decided that he would tell Coach about Glee club there. He wasn't sure what the meeting was about, exactly; all he cared about was the fact that his tortured arms would not have to endure pain much longer. He had until seven to rest them, and then the entire weekend, which he was very excited for. Just one week of high school had drained him—he had no idea how he'd survive the next four years.

Luck was on his side that day: his math classroom, as well as N-13, were in close proximity to his locker. He gritted his teeth, hauled his heavy bag over his shoulder, and speed-walked out of the classroom straight to his locker. There was a couple who was obscenely involved with each other next to him: he ignored them as best as he could and continued to unlock his locker. He couldn't help but glance at the two and did a double-take.

A boy in a familiar Cheerios uniform was aggressively kissing a girl in a Cheerios uniform. There was only one other boy on the Cheerios, and that was—

"Hey, Hummel, do you mind? I know you don't get any action, but can you not stare?" Blaine broke away from the girl, who turned out to be a blonde girl he recognized but couldn't name. Kurt's jaw fell to the ground. _Am I seeing things?_ Regardless, he was irritated by this statement.

"Well, it's kind of hard when you're k-kissing right in front of my locker, so can you get a room?" He cursed himself for stuttering, but was quite proud of his response.

"Sure—it's a little distracting having Porcelain over here, so let's go, Brittany." He put his hand on her shoulder and guided them away without giving Kurt a second glance. Kurt didn't look back either; Blaine didn't deserve it.

He opened his backpack and began placing the books he didn't need inside his locker as a million thoughts buzzed in his mind. _I thought Blaine was gay_ seemed to be the most popular one, followed by _Maybe he's bi_ and _Maybe he's not completely out yet_ and _I wonder what it'd be like if he kissed me like that_. Still, it was not any of his business, and he did not care to involve himself in it. Perhaps a little bit, since he didn't want to witness them sucking face by his locker every day if this was to continue. It was gross. It was unnecessary. He shouldn't have to be subjected to _that_.

He wasn't even jealous of Brittany for kissing Blaine. There was no denying that he was attractive—on the outside. Whoever wanted to stick their tongue down that disgusting, crude, insult-filled mouth must be absolutely crazy.

After he put everything he needed to away, Kurt stood up and stared at the little magnetic mirror he had placed inside a few days earlier. His face looked okay, thanks to the moisturizing regimen he had started at the end of eighth grade. His hair was still in place, thankfully: he adjusted the part a little bit, wishing that one day he could change it. Kurt hated his hairstyle: it made his childish face look even younger. It made him look like a seventh grader, not a freshman. His eyes traveled down to his lips, which were a little chapped from biting and licking them so often at Cheerios practice—he tended to do that while carrying out difficult physical activities.

As he stared at his reflection, he thought about how much he had changed within just a few days of high school. He didn't look any different, but he felt like he'd had a complete makeover. _I'm already on the road to corruption: first day was okay, but the second day, I have dirty thoughts about a jerk, I wear a thong…third day, I start cursing, and tell off someone for making out in front of my locker—the same guy I had a provocative dream about. What the hell even is this? Is this what high school really is?_

Kurt shook his head and closed his locker, watching his figure disappear in the darkness of the door. He picked up his backpack and stepped towards the classroom, which turned out to be a Spanish class, based on the multiple Spanish and Mexican flags that were hanging on the door. Inside, he saw a handful of Cheerios scattered across the room, laughing and talking in their little cliques. Brittany was sitting next to Blaine towards the back of the room, who was scowling. Santana was behind him, staring at Brittany.

He entered the room, nodding at Coach and the man he didn't recognize standing next to her, who looked at him as he headed towards the empty seat next to Santana, since she was waving him over. He took it, setting his things down next to him. Santana had her phone out in front of her and was furiously typing.

"So, I'm talking to my friend Puckerman here, and I have a bet with him. Do you think that you're as big as him, Kurt?" Santana smiled slyly at him as she passed her phone to him. He took it hesitantly, not knowing who Puckerman was or what she meant by "big as him". After glancing at the picture on the screen for a millisecond, he knew exactly what she meant, and practically threw the phone back at her.

"Santana! I—I don't want to—what-"

"Aw, look, he's all flustered. How adorable." Santana grabbed it, staring at the sext with a smile on her face. "I would show Anderson over here, since he'd definitely appreciate something like this, but apparently he's switched teams and taken my lady friend over here, who I am not talking to." Santana sighed, closing her phone. "Oh well. Their loss."

Kurt's face was still pink from embarrassment, he could just tell. He stared in front of him, trying to send Santana the message that what she did was completely inappropriate and that he wouldn't stand for it. Then he realized that he was staring at the back of Blaine's head, the same thing he'd seen in his dream last night, and his face positively burned.

The fact of the matter was, Kurt could not ignore what he had dreamed about, despite how hard he tried to. He would just be staring at his work in front of him, walking down the halls, staring up at the notes on the board, and boom, there was Blaine in the shower again. He was ashamed of how often he thought about it, yet he couldn't do anything about it. It seemed that the harder he tried not to think about it, the more he thought about it. He found it to be repulsive.

"All right, girls, boys, settle down," Coach Sylvester said, and everyone immediately took their seats. She was pacing around the front of the room like a lion stalking their prey. "You haven't gotten off of practice just because I was feeling generous. I will let my dear, dear friend, Mr. William Schuester, explain." Coach moved away, gesturing for the man who was standing off to the side to take center stage.

"Hello, everyone. Or, if you have me as a teacher, _hola_," Mr. Schuester waved to the class full of Cheerios, who responded with tepid "heys", "his", and "whatevers." "I don't know if any of you have been notified yet, but I recently got permission from Principal Figgins to revive William McKinley High School's old Glee club!" He paused, an obvious attempt for applause, which he did not receive. "Okay…well, since we are just getting it on its feet, I was hoping to attract some Cheerios to the show choir. You all have a fantastic influence on McKinley, and I think you would all be a great addition to the club, as long as you can sing." He laughed. "Your coach agrees with me, and said that you can miss one practice a week for this commitment." Kurt looked at Coach, who was glowering at the floor. It didn't seem like she was too keen on the idea, which made Kurt very suspicious of how this agreement was made. "So, if you are interested in auditioning, there's a sign-up sheet on the extracurricular activity board. We already have some names, so I encourage you to join them! Any questions?"

"Nope. No questions," Coach immediately replied, stepping in front of Mr. Schuester. "You heard the man. Everyone is dismissed. Remember that we have practice tomorrow morning at 7:30, and if you're late you have a meeting with me and my favorite little instrument of torture. Blaine, Quinn, Santana, Brittany, and Lady, get your butts over here. I need a quick word." Confused, Kurt grabbed his things and stood up. The others looked equally puzzled: Blaine was frowning, Santana was talking to herself, and across the room Quinn was staring at Coach, her head cocked to the side (Brittany, as usual, seemed indifferent, considering that she was almost always confused).

Eventually, they all gathered outside of the classroom, with the Cheerios circles around their Coach. Kurt was standing next to Blaine: he tried his damndest to stay as far away from him as possible without being to conspicuous.

"So, I'm sure that none of you want to join that stupid show choir…well, maybe not Porcelain, but he barely counts. It's the dumbest thing Figgins has ever done since he hired that boy-band-member-wannabe. He's sucking the money that should be going to our program, where it belongs. However, I have handpicked all of you to join the Glee club. Why? I want you to do what you do best: destroy them from the inside out. I want you to get in that club like squirming maggots preying on fresh road kill on a hot summer day. Soon enough, it will be decimated, and we'll get the money we deserve. I don't like that little smirk Schuester has been wearing these past few days; I need to wipe it off as soon as possible.

"I'm giving you a month to destroy it. Santana, I want you to demean anyone you can—basically, just be you, but say _everything_ that you want to say. Tear them apart. Quinn, you know what you're doing. Keep being the itch-with-a-b that you are. Brittany…you'll screw the club up regardless. Blaine, as captain, you'll oversee that everyone's doing their job, and come up with methods of destruction. Oh, and Lady Hummel, I couldn't send all of my hotties over. That would make it too suspicious. I've got to put a wild card in there, right?" Kurt did not respond. He felt like he was going to explode from the overload of information, and anger at Coach for being so awful to him.

"We'll meet tomorrow after practice to discuss it more. I've got a date with my elliptical now; goodbye. And don't think that you're off the hook for this!" Coach Sue reiterated. "I need you all to work twice as hard at practice. Some of you may be subject to removal if I see you start to regress, or, even worse, if you become attached to Williams's little gay parade." Coach Sue then turned on her heel and left the five of them, who all seemed shocked at what had just occurred.

The five of them headed towards the bulletin board, the Unholy Trinity walking together in front of Kurt and Blaine. Kurt flanked towards the outside of Brittany, trying to get as far away from Blaine as possible. _I don't want to be associated with this bipolar ass-hat_, he thought. Blaine seemed to be on the same page: his hands were in his pockets, that perpetual scowl still plastered on his face. They continued down the hallway until they found the board, and stopped in front of it.

"'Balls McFag', how original," Santana scoffed as she read the list. "What's up with that star next to Berry's name? Are we in third grade? Hey, isn't she your Jewish friend or something, Porcelain?" She turned to Kurt, who mumbled a "yes." He didn't know how to respond; all he knew was he hated himself for letting them talk about Rachel in such a way.

"Mercedes Jones, that fat-ass sassy black girl...figures...Artie Abrams, oh God, how is he going to do the dancing...Tina Cohen-Chang, who the hell is that; Puckerman and his friends wouldn't be that creative in making up a name...wait, holy shit, is that Finn's name?!" Quinn, who Kurt knew was Finn's girlfriend (and hated her for it), exclaimed furiously. "He didn't talk to me about this! We're going to lose our positions as homecoming king and queen and potentially prom king and queen!"

Before they could say anything else, Blaine pushed the girls aside and grabbed the pen hanging next to the flyer. He scrawled "Blaine Anderson" in neat penmanship under "Balls McFag", and walked away just as he finished writing.

"What's up his butt," Quinn commented as they watched his retreating figure.

"Obviously not a dick," Santana spat, turning to Brittany. Fire raged in her eyes as she stared at the blonde. "How did you make him switch teams?"

"Wait, he's still on the Cheerios, right?" Brittany asked.

"Let me put it plainly: why were you and Gay Blaine swapping spit?!"

"'Swapping spit?' Is it like trading cards or something? That sounds kind of gross."

"Brittany, why were you kissing Blaine in front of my locker?" Kurt asked, surprising himself and evidently the other girls, since they jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Lady Hummel! I forgot that your scrawny, glittery ass was still here," Santana said. "Well, Brittany, you heard the he-she: speak."

Brittany smiled. "Oh, he said that he'd give me a coupon for Breadstix if I kissed him after school today," she said happily, "and I was planning to use it with you, Santana. Wait, does that mean I'm a prosecute?"

"No, honey, you're not a prostitute," Quinn emphasized Brittany's mistake. "That's interesting, though, very interesting. I wonder why he'd want to kiss Brittany...nothing against you," she added quickly. "I think I'm going to ask him about it."

"Hummel, you need to give Blaine a little taste of those virgin lips to get him away from my girl, you got that?" Kurt started at the sound of his name. He nodded insincerely, afraid to tell Santana the truth that there was no way in hell he'd ever kiss Blaine.

"Might as well get this over with," Quinn groaned as she finally reached up to grab the hanging pen and signed her name. The other girls followed suit, and then left, not saying another word to Kurt. He watched them saunter down the hall, feeling rather lonely. It wasn't that he wanted to be friends with them, no-they were all bitches (maybe not Brittany...). He just wished that, aside from Rachel and a number of other people he could count on his hands, people would like him. Some of the Cheerios were okay, but they all had the same goal: pleasing Coach. And maybe to get football players in their pants.

He picked up the pen and began to write his name on the short list, despising the reason why he was doing so. He didn't know how much of the school's budget the Cheerios got, but he could tell it was a lot. Regardless, it was wrong that Coach had sent the five of them in like German spies trying to commit genocide. He admired Mr. Schuester for starting the Glee club again, although it was obvious that only "losers" would join. It may have been cool back in his day, but now it was seen as "gay", which still had a negative connotation. Even if he fit the club's requirements from society's view, Kurt figured that he'd still enjoy himself while singing and performing. _Might as well enjoy it as much as I can_, he thought sadly as he walked away, taking out his phone to call his dad for a pick-up. He felt awful for being one of the reasons for the club's impending annihilation.

_Maybe Coach will see how successful we might be with Rachel and me and change her mind_, Kurt wondered as he fantasized about being on stage, soloing on "Defying Gravity" or some other song he loved dearly and knew he could perform well, considering how many times he sang them in the shower.

Feeling like his arms were going to fall off, he strode out of the building and sat down on an empty bench, speculating on what might happen when mixing the Cheerios with the Glee club.

* * *

"You ready, Kurt?" Kurt stuffed his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans and rushed up the stairs to find Burt waiting by the door. "Rachel's been waiting in the living room, so let's go." Kurt apologized for taking so long in changing out of his Cheerios uniform; his arms had somewhat improved after he sat in bed for hours with heating pads wrapped around them. It was as if he was in heaven. It also gave him a lot of time to think about what had happened at the meeting.

Why he'd been one of the people chosen to destroy the Glee club, he had no idea. Based on the other people selected, he was a random choice. Coach probably thought he wouldn't even make the audition. She, as well as the others, was in for a great surprise when he would knock them out of the park with "Mr. Cellophane."

Maybe he'd even beat Rachel.

"Are you feeling better, Kurt?" Rachel asked as he emerged from his door. Burt gave him a strange look: he didn't tell his father anything about what had transpired the day before and what the consequence was. Burt didn't even know why Kurt had to go to the mall, but he didn't seem to care.

"Are you all ready to head out?" He asked as Kurt signaled to Rachel that he'd tell her more later. They nodded, and exited the house.

"Could I drive, Dad?" Kurt asked-he'd recently gotten his permit.

Burt shook his head. "I don't want to have a heart attack, Kurt," he laughed, and opened the car door. Kurt, a little disappointed that he couldn't test his new ability, got into the passenger seat, and Rachel slid into the back.

Throughout the drive to the mall, Rachel and Kurt mostly discussed the Glee club and their ambitions: Kurt explained how it worked, based on what Mr. Schuester said at the meeting, and Rachel tittered about how many solos she'd potentially get. Kurt didn't tell her about the true reason why he could join; he just said that the meeting was for any Cheerios interested, and that he and a few others were the only ones.

He did not mention Blaine—neither did Rachel.

"So let me get this straight," Burt said as he turned onto the exit for the mall, "you're a cheerleader now, and you want to join the show choir?"

Kurt was sure that he heard disappointment in his father's voice. "Is that a problem?" He asked, a little attitude seeping through.

"No, no, it's just that I won't be able to see you that much," Burt replied defensively, "and I won't have your help in the shop. Are you sure that you'll be able to do all of your homework?"

"Yes, Dad," Kurt answered, exasperated. "Now, can you let us out, please?" They were nearing the entrance.

"All right, all right. I'll be back at 9. See you later, kiddo. And keep an eye on him, Rachel," Burt laughed, and Rachel saluted him.

"So, where do you want to go first?" Kurt asked as they walked through the doors, entering the establishment. He could tell that nearly everyone from McKinley was there, since there was already a large mass of football players and their girlfriends off to the side by the food court.

"We, homecoming isn't for another few weeks, so I think your purpose is a little more pressing..." Rachel grinned, and Kurt smacked her arm.

"Quit it," he grumbled, but realized that she was right. "Fine, fine, take me to wherever you think they'll have them. Do they—do they have ones that are more, erm, masculine?" Kurt thought about what he was wearing: it was simple, just a red triangle of cloth and a polyester string in the back, nothing more, nothing less. He just wished it was a little…bigger.

Rachel let out a peal of laughter. "Oh, Kurt," she gasped, doubling over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just that…oh, _gawd_!"

"You are so immature!" Kurt's voice raised a few octaves higher than its usual soprano. They stopped in front of Victoria's Secret, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets. "No, no, no; _here_?! This is…this is Victoria's Secret, not Victor's! I can't do this!"

"You—you can…" she still hadn't escaped her fit of giggles, "you can tell t-them that you're getting something for your—for your girlfriend!" She laughed again, collapsing against Kurt. He actually liked the idea. It seemed completely normal that a guy would get his girlfriend undergarments, right? I am so bad at this, he groaned as he dragged a snorting Rachel into the store, hitting her so she would compose herself. He was surrounded by multiple mannequins clad only in bejeweled brassieres and lacy panties. Kurt knew this was heaven for many guys, when really he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Can I help you, sir?" A worker flocked to him, a vehement grin on her face. Rachel straightened up as Kurt tried to form an answer.

"Yes, he needs some thongs for his girlfriend," she lied smoothly. Kurt simply nodded, grateful that Rachel was such a talented actor.

"Do you want more…intimate ones?" She asked professionally, and Kurt blanched.

"No, no, just…normal ones," he answered quickly, and the woman seemed to be stunned by his response.

"Okaayyy, just follow me," she replied with uncertainty, and led them to another room.

She motioned towards an island filled with a rainbow of undergarments, told her to flag her down if they needed anything else, and left to greet some new customers. Kurt held up a lacy iota, filled with disgust.

"How do you even wear this? You must feel so bare," he said, putting it down. Rachel's face colored.

"Well, I mean, guys go commando all the time soo…"

"Ew, Rachel, stop! Anyway, what size are you?" He held up another one, which was covered in a flowery print. He could actually feel his masculinity slipping through his fingers.

"I'm a medium, why?" she seemed a bit uncomfortable with divulging the information, but Kurt soon explained why it was necessary.

"Well, we're kind of the same size, except I need something…I won't go into the details, but I'm going to get a large," he thrust his hand into the pile of simpler thongs and pulled out a lime green one. He scrunched his nose at the neon color, and opted for the navy one off to the side. Upon further inspection, he found another red one similar to the one he was wearing, and figured that a kelly green one would be okay. He wasn't very happy with the price, but Rachel swore that it was really high quality, and definitely worth it.

"Are you sure that you have enough?" Rachel asked as they approached the cashier. He placed the garments on the table, getting out his wallet.

"Yeah, I'll just do laundry more often, I guess," he said, and waited as the woman behind the counter checked out the materials.

Eventually the two of them emerged from the store; Kurt forced Rachel to carry the bag since he was too embarrassed to do so. They browsed a few stores for a while, searching for a homecoming dress for Rachel, which turned out to be quite easy since many stores were having sales.

They left the premises a few hours later; Rachel's dress was stowed in the back of Burt's car while Kurt kept his bag on the floor between his legs. Burt hadn't noticed. He and Rachel chatted as Kurt stared out of the window, his eyelids drooping. Before he knew it, they were back at the Hummel household. Kurt grabbed his bag with his purchases and exited the car, following Burt silently into the house.

"Kurt, what's that?" Burt queried as he took off his shoes. His father crossed the room to pick up the pink bag next to Kurt.

"No!" Kurt swiped it out of his hands, his face burning. "No, that's just—I'm hiding Rachel's birthday gift in here," _Hopefully he'll believe that._

Thankfully, Burt didn't ask any further. He shrugged his shoulders, told Kurt that he needed help in the shop the next day, and plopped down on the couch to watch a football game he recorded. Kurt sighed with relief, glad that he wouldn't have to explain anything he didn't want to to his father. And having thongs was the absolute _last_ thing he wanted to talk about.

Kurt took his things and retreated to his room, eager to try on his new clothing to make sure that it fit okay. He threw the clothes on his bed, deciding to try on the green, since the other two were the same style. Stripping off his jeans and t-shirt, Kurt stood in the mirror and examined himself, just as he had earlier that day but now with his entire nearly-bare figure. He was very surprised with how it had developed after some time with the Cheerios: muscle was beginning to become somewhat palpable throughout his body. He observed himself from multiple angles, blushing slightly at the sight of his bare ass due to the lack of coverage from his thong, which reminded him of why he decided to strip. He took off the thong and swiftly replaced it with the new one from Victoria's Secret: it was much softer, and fit him a little better than the red one. It was still very constraining, and still very awkward.

He continued to stand in front of his mirror, but closed his eyes, trying to envision another man next to him, his nude features blurred. Kurt was standing there in his underwear, the faceless man approaching him, getting down on his knees as he-

_No_. It was just...no. Kurt couldn't see the appeal of such primitive actions. Just the brushing of fingertips seemed so much more intimate. He loved the idea of someone wooing him, romancing him with flowers and songs and so much more straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel. Even a light, instant kiss was satisfactory. In all honesty, however, he could not see any of this happening. It seemed as if he'd go to Mars before someone would take a romantic interest in him, especially since most of the guys in Lima were straight as stripper poles.

Kurt let out a lengthy sigh, dressing himself in a bath robe as he gathered his things for a shower. His arms were starting to lose their vitality again, and he was completely exhausted from the first week of school-it wasn't even a full week. He had a very eventful year laid out in front of him as well, since he was a mercenary that would soon act upon his employer's wishes come Tuesday. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be "the bad guy."

Afraid that Burt would come down and see his new garments, Kurt stuffed them back into the bag and hid it under his bed, swearing to himself that he'd wash them the next day when he had free time. He had no idea of how much longer he'd have to keep all of these secrets, unsure of whether Burt would find out or if he'd eventually crack.

Still, his father had to know that something was up. He'd already noticed that Kurt had changed. Kurt knew that he was well on his way down the road of corruption: wearing raunchy undergarments, having sex dreams, cursing, and he was sure that the list would soon grow.

Man, high school was rough.

* * *

A/N: So, what did you think? Let me know! I'm already enthralled with the response just after one chapter!

I have a lot of work coming up for school, so don't expect anything very soon. I'll try my hardest!

you can follow me on tumblr, championisjustatitle, for updates/little things i write on the side/klaine klaine klaine/etc.


	3. Chapter 3

The weekend had been rather uneventful for Kurt. He went to cheer, he helped Burt in the shop, he did his homework. Most of all, however, he sang: Kurt practiced for his audition whenever he could. His voice echoed throughout the rooms of his home, ricocheting off of the walls incessantly. Throughout his weekend, he went through phases when he was absolutely sure he'd nail it, and then he knew he'd fail miserably. Regardless of that, he practiced until his voice was raw; he did not practice on Monday, as it was his rest day. He also didn't have any time between Cheerios practice and worrying.

He also took his free time to reflect on his experiences thus far. Much to his dismay, many of his thoughts gravitated towards Blaine. It wasn't about how attractive he was, but rather his enigma. Blaine kept to himself most of the time, which was okay with Kurt since whatever he had to say was negative 99.9-repeating % of the time (which, in math, is technically 100%). He stuck to Coach's side like a dog following its owner. What puzzled Kurt the most was what had transpired in front of his locker on Friday. Coach and Santana had called Blaine gay, but why was he kissing Brittany? Rather, why had he _paid_ her to kiss him? It didn't make any sense to Kurt, and he knew he was spending a ridiculous amount of time thinking about it. Blaine was simply a conundrum he would never be able to solve, and didn't care to.

Tuesday finally arrived, and Kurt was feeling quite confident. It was his first real audition, even though he'd been forced into it. He was only worried about what the other members of the Cheerios would do: would they purposely bomb it? None of them had reached out to him to explain what their plans were to sabotage the Glee club: it seemed that Blaine had no interest in divulging his plans to the others. Regardless, he wanted to make a good impression. He would try everything in his power to keep the Glee club intact, but needed to figure out how to without being found out by the others, or worse, Coach Sue. He was devoted to both Glee and the Cheerios, mainly because the Cheerios gave him the foundation for a social status (a.k.a, people in McKinley seemed to respect the cheerleaders, no matter what gender), and because he knew Coach would probably deport him to a third-world country if he showed any kind of legitimate emotional attachment to the club.

The nerves were finally beginning to set in as Kurt stood in the wings of the stage after school: the day seemed to fly before him until he stepped into the auditorium. Rachel was still on the stage, giving an emotional audition with "On My Own". Kurt could not deny that she had star potential: her stage presence was exceptional, and her beautiful voice had definitely won Mr. Schuester over. It was very difficult, however, to say whether she was better than Mercedes Jones, who had gone first. Her voice was absolutely breath-taking. They would both be excellent additions to the club, although Kurt could see future conflicts surfacing: Mercedes practically sweated attitude, so Rachel would definitely have a problem with that if they argued over the solos they would receive.

Kurt hoped that he could match them. It was obvious that he was better than Artie and Tina, at least in his humble opinion. They were good, in their own ways, but Kurt knew that he was better. Blaine had been chosen to go after him, then Santana, then Brittany, then Finn, and finally Quinn. He was glad that he was in the bulk of them all, not having the expectation to set the bar for everyone by going first, or bringing them home by going last. Kurt knew that regardless of this, he'd have to give it all he had, and maybe make it seem like he didn't practice as much as he had over the weekend. A performance that looks easy is a good performance.

Rachel finally hit the last note, said her thanks, and flounced off the stage. She got a good amount of applause, but it was most prominent from the back of the room. Obviously Mr. Schue would take everyone who auditioned, since they still didn't even have enough potential members to compete, but Kurt could tell that Rachel would be the leading woman based on how animated Mr. Schue's applause was. He didn't necessarily want to co-captain in leadership, but hopefully the male counterpart in the club.

"Kurt Hummel?" Mr. Schue's disembodied voice called out, and Kurt walked out onto the stage before his nerves could react. Everyone who had auditioned and was going to audition was in the vacated audience, and Mr. Schue was sitting at a table with a pen in his hand. Blaine was not there, though, since he was preparing backstage for his oncoming performance. Not that it mattered to Kurt—he preferred that Blaine not even watch him sing, since he'd probably make fun of him. Kurt pushed him out of his mind and ambled towards the pianist, handing him sheet music.

"Hello, my name is Kurt Hummel, and I will be auditioning for the role of a member of the Glee club," he delivered the line just as he'd practiced when he returned to center-stage. He positioned the microphone in front of him, nodded to the pianist, who began to play. His foot instinctively tapped to the beat, and he slowly felt himself fall into the music. Soon enough, his cue came to sing, and he sang.

The stage was not big enough, the lights too dim: Kurt knew that his performance deserved better. Surprisingly, having an audience encouraged him: it made him feel stronger knowing that people were watching and admiring his talent (they had to be admiring his voice, he was sure they were). He sang as if he was giving an impromptu performance, yet he could still blow them away with little preparation. He made it seem effortless, and it was: it all came naturally.

He hit the high note with ease, letting it ring like a lone bird call in a silent forest. The faces in the crowd were a blur, but he could see Mr. Schuester sitting back in his seat, an impressed expression on his face. He knew he nailed it, but kept his expression somewhat bored, as if he was waiting for bigger and better. The stage inflated Kurt's ego to the max: if it grew any more, he'd be floating towards the ceiling.

The song ended abruptly, and Kurt skipped off the stage, scattered applause following. He took a seat next to Rachel, who was brimming with happiness. She squealed, throwing her arms around Kurt, who hugged her back. He was coming down from his adrenaline rush, but still had a giddy feeling churning in his stomach.

"Damn, I didn't know you could sing, Porcelain, even if you do sound like a girl," Santana commented as she passed him, her Cheerios skirt swishing. Kurt wasn't sure if he should take it as a compliment or insult.

"You did so well, Kurt! I told you, we're going to be the stars of this club. Oh my God, I need to start picking out songs for all of my solos..."

A couple of familiar chords rang out from the piano, which had been pushed to center-stage. Kurt snapped his head to face the front; Rachel fell silent. Blaine was sitting on the bench, crouched over the keyboard; his fingers fluttered over the keys, lightly caressing the alternating ivory and black. He seemed to be immersed in the music, as if he was completely alone, surrounded by the plinking of the piano keys. It seemed so unlike Blaine, a perpetual asshole, to be a talented musician, but based on the grace and finesse of his hands, how it looked like he had scoliosis from the unnatural way his spine curved in his crouched position, how his butt was halfway off of his seat—Kurt could tell that he'd been playing piano for a long time.

"_You think I'm pretty without any make-up on_," an unctuous tenor voice sounded from Blaine's mouth. Kurt was sure his jaw was not the only one that dropped to the floor. He wasn't sure, however, if anyone else's hearts stopped like his. There was no way that same voice could be so rude, so sarcastic...

Blaine continued the acoustic version of the pop hit, turning it from a club song to a deep, emotional ballad. It didn't matter that the song was basically about a girl letting a guy get into her pants: Blaine made it seem as idyllic as _Come What May_. His voice was like a waterfall: a smooth river leading up to a powerful crescendo of sound as he reached the last verses. In an attempt to distract himself, Kurt began examining his nails and cuticles, but found he could not do it for long. Although he was sitting on that bench, staring down at his fingers, Blaine's presence was undeniable, and drew the audience in, even Kurt, who was trying _so_ hard to think about something else.

"_Let you put your hands- on me_," Blaine turned to face the crowd as he held the note, and for a split second his eyes landed on Kurt's. The look in his them was unnerving. Kurt could see their passion radiating from the stage to his seat. It was some wild fire fueled by the rawness of the song and…something else. The moment, however, finished as quickly as it had commenced. Blaine sang the ending note, smooth as caramel, letting a last chord reverberate throughout the stadia. No one applauded when he finally removed his hands from the piano and got up from his seat, returning to the handful of kids who appeared to be shocked into silence.

"_Oh. My. God_," Rachel whispered into Kurt's ear. Kurt wasn't sure how to react. All he knew was that he had definitely lost his spot as the leading man of the Glee club. Blaine was one of those people who was good at everything except social skills, since he was an absolute dick. Kurt found that he hated him even more after the audition. He hated how pretentious he was for deciding to strip down the song, showing off his ability to play the piano and sing. He hated the smug look on his face as he swaggered off the stage. Most of all, he hated how he'd made Kurt's performance appear like dirt in comparison.

They got through the rest if the auditions relatively quickly: Santana turned out to be rather talented, which was surprising to Kurt. Quinn and Brittany were decent, so Kurt figured that the others hadn't conspired behind his back to screw up the auditions. Finn was decent as well, but certainly not as good as Blaine. Rachel seemed to be even more in love with Finn as she sat on the edge of her seat, watching him sing with her fists balled in her lap and a dreamy look in her eyes. Kurt rolled his eyes. _Could she be more obvious?_

"All right, guys, that's a wrap!" Mr. Schue said as they all gathered at his table after the last audition. "You're all very good; I'm glad that we have such a talented group. However, what we'll need to work on is meshing such powerful individual voices together. Glee isn't just about the solos, but trust me, we'll have those," Mr. Schue smiled at Rachel, and then at Blaine. "Our first meeting will be on Thursday. We need to recruit a couple more people, since we still don't have enough to compete with. For those of you on the Cheerios, I spoke with Sue and she said you can miss practice on Thursdays, which is when we are going to have rehearsals consistently. I'll have some more throughout the week for those who can make it. Please encourage your friends to join! I'll see you all in the choir room on Thursday after school; you're all dismissed," Mr. Schue said, and everyone began to leave.

"Hey, Kurt?" He turned to see Mercedes walking towards him. Rachel had left to catch up with Finn; she was probably going to ask him about doing a duet or something. Not really knowing how to greet her, since they'd never really met, Kurt held out his hand for her to shake, and knew that it was a stupid move when she gave him a strange look. She lowered his hand and took him in her arms, much to his surprise.

"Oh, okay," he intoned under his breath. He wasn't used to this sort of greeting.

"Sorry, it's just that you're so cute!" She said, squeezing him harder, and then let him go. "It also looked like you needed a hug. You're good, like, really good. Not as good as me, of course," she flipped her long, ebony hair over her shoulder, "but I like you. I think we're going to have a great year, don't you? Even though we're the, quote, 'losers'," she made quotation marks with her fingers.

"Sure," Kurt replied miserably, watching the other Cheerios leave the auditorium. Maybe it'd be great for a while, but if Coach got her way, Mercedes's dreams of soloing at Nationals (Glee has a nationals too, right?) would be crushed.

"C'mon, Kurt, with voices like ours, we wouldn't need the extra people! Trust me, it'll be great. By the end of the year, the rest of the school will be bowing down to us, not the Cheerios," she spat out the last word as if she cussed. "Oh, sorry, you're on the Cheerios, right?" Kurt had opted not to wear his uniform that day, since he wanted to look presentable. It wasn't necessary, anyway, since they didn't have practice.

"Yeah, I am," he didn't say _yes, and I hate it_, or _yes, and I love it_, because while he didn't hate the Cheerios, he knew he preferred the Glee club. He didn't want anyone to risk hearing him say anything about it, though. He was pretty sure that Sue had bugged his backpack.

"Oh, okay," Mercedes replied, evidently unsure of how to respond. "Well, it's too bad that you have another commitment so you can't practice with us that much. I'm gonna add you on Facebook, is that okay? I think it'd be prudent to consult you in which solos I should do, and what clothes I should wear, because boy, you are a fashionista!" She glided her fingers along his cashmere scarf as she walked away.

Suspecting that he had just made a friend, Kurt trodded in the opposite direction, feeling a smile grow on his face. He couldn't wait to get home and see his dad to tell him about his audition, as well as to get his homework done, but he first had to stop at his locker. Kurt sped out of the room and navigated his way through the labyrinth that was McKinley High School. He was glad to find that he did not get lost on his way to his locker, and unlocked it with ease. As he began taking his books, someone called his name—or rather, "Lady Hummel."

"Hey, we need to talk," Kurt looked up to see red warm-up pants and a Cheerios shirt: Blaine.

"What do you want," Kurt grumbled. While his performance was absolutely amazing, it did nothing to amend the grievances he had caused Kurt: he was surprised that Blaine wasn't making out with Brittany against the locker again, but then remembered it was a farce.

"Trust me, I want to get this over with as quickly as you do," Blaine narrowed his eyes, "but anyway, Coach wanted me to pass on the message that you have to do extra practice for Cheerios." Blaine's arms were crossed, and while he was staring at Kurt's face, he wasn't looking him in the eyes. The fervor in his eyes from the audition was gone: they had their usual glazed, bored look.

Kurt jumped to his feet. "'Extra practice'?! What does that mean?" Tortuous images popped up in Kurt's head. _Do I have to go every day? Do I have to stay after and do more push-ups? Will this be with...oh, God no..._

"Once a week, from 8:30 to 11:00 at night, I have to go over the routines with you," Blaine stated with an acerbic tone. He seemed as opposed to the idea as Kurt was.

"Why can't Coach do it?!" Kurt knew he was being a jerk, and that it was a stupid question as well. _Why would Coach Sylvester take time out of her day for a little freshman like me?_

"Wow, Porcelain, I think you know the answer to that," Blaine mocked him. Kurt's cheeks flared in rage. "She has much better things to do than be with you on a weeknight. If you want to go to Nationals, you have to be up to speed with the rest of us, and right now, Coach Sue isn't happy with you."

That did seem a little realistic: Kurt was flattered that Coach wanted to take him to Nationals, but knew that he'd have to bust his ass to make it. Without having any prior experience in cheerleading, Kurt obviously had already proved that he had potential, and Coach recognized it. He just needed to be _better_: amazing wasn't enough to satisfy Coach Sylvester's trophy-hungry ambitions. It did come with an awful price, though: he had to endure two and a half hours with Blaine every week. The thought alone was enough for Kurt to want to punch himself in the face multiple times.

"Okay, when is it?" Kurt inquired, placing his hands on his hips. He needed to get home and do an obscene amount of homework, which he'd been cruelly assigned just in the second week of school.

"Well, I don't know when you're available. Wednesday nights are best for me." Blaine added, and Kurt nodded. Wednesdays sucked anyway, so he might as well have it then to get it over and done with in the middle of the week.

"Fine, fine, Wednesdays it is. I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" Kurt hitched his bag over his back, hoping that Blaine would catch the hint that he wanted to leave.

"Sure. Bye." Blaine began walking in the opposite direction in which Kurt needed to go. Kurt didn't watch him leave: he headed towards the front, where Burt was waiting for him.

* * *

Later that night, Kurt was lying on his bed, grateful that the day was nearly over. He'd finished his homework and celebrated his successful audition with Burt at Breadstix. He also told Burt about his extra Cheerios practice, but left out some of the details. He felt that it wasn't important for him to know that he'd been singled out, and that it was just him and Blaine. His father wouldn't understand that it was for the good of the team that he got these private practices, and he'd probably be uncomfortable with the fact that he was alone with a boy, even though Kurt wasn't even sure what sexuality he was. Regardless, Kurt needed to rant about it to someone. He decided Rachel would be his best bet, so he grabbed his phone from his night table and texted her.

(10:12)** Guess what.**

(10:13) How am I supposed to guess? Tell me.

(10:15) **I have to go to extra Cheerios practice every week**

(10:16) What!? Why? Does anyone else have to do it? Will it coincide with Glee?

(10:19)** No, it's at 8 pm...to 11. I'm not going to get any sleep. Coach wants me to go to Nationals but I kind of suck so I have to do more to get better. I don't think anyone else has to. Except Blaine, because he's going to be overseeing it**

(10:21) Omg! That sucks. Actually, maybe you can get him to sing. That would make it bearable. His voice is from heaven.

(10:23)** You think I'm gonna ask him to do that? I figured I'm not really going to talk to him, only to ask what I need to do and stuff related to Cheerios. Although...**

(10:23) What?

(10:26) Kuuuurrrrtttt tell meeee!

(10:29)** Sorry, it took me awhile to phrase this. He's just...really weird. Like, I thought he was gay, but then I see him making out with Brittany, and then it turns out that he kind of paid her, so that makes no sense. Why would you pay to kiss a girl when you're on the other team! Then during the song, he sort of looked at me.**

(10:31) Whoah. Drama city over by Blaine town. What do you mean, looked at you?

(10:33)** Idk, he was singing the end, and then he looked up at us and I could have sworn his eyes landed on me. Whatever, it's 11, I must be imagining things. I'm about to pass out. Good night, Rach**

(10:33) Night, K :)

* * *

A/N: Sorry this is so short, it's kind of filler, but it's also really important, and maybe you know why...:)

The next chapter is huge; thankfully I've started to type it so maybe it'll be up soon!

Reviews are much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

"Blaine?" Kurt called out tentatively, holding his bag close to his hip. It was Wednesday night: he was in the school gym, where Blaine had reminded him that day at practice to be in by 8:30 sharp, and he was just a few minutes early. The day seemed to rush past him, and now it was time for what he dreaded the most. It didn't help that Coach has worked them hard at practice after school, considering that the first football game was that Saturday. He also had Glee again the next day, and Santana had passed on the message that the Cheerio spies were to meet in front of the choir room ten minutes before to go through what they were going to do. Kurt wasn't sure if he was least excited for that or the pending practice with Blaine.

After a moment of utter quiet, Kurt assumed that he was either in the locker room getting changed or hadn't gotten there quite yet, so he decided to take the extra time to stretch. _Might as well prepare myself for hell_. Stretching had quickly become his favorite part of practice, since it was the least rigorous part, and was somewhat calming. He walked into the center of the gym and sat himself down on the smooth, cool floor and spread his legs into a straddle, leaning over to the right. He held for some time, and then moved to the left, held, and finally walked his hands out into the middle as far as possible, feeling a semi-painful yet effective stretch in his groin. Suddenly, he felt a hand pressing on his back: he bit his lip to stop himself from gasping in surprise. It stayed there for a second, the palm solid against his spine, the fingers spread across his back like petals stemming from a flower, and then gently pushed him forward, farther than Kurt had ever been able to go before—his muscles felt as if they were tearing apart. His nose was nearing the ground; he let out a small groan as the hand pressed even harder, and Kurt immediately felt his cheeks flare in embarrassment. The hand then began to alleviate its pressure until Kurt was sitting up straight.

"Wow, you're flexible, Porcelain," Blaine came into view, sitting himself across from Kurt and positioning his own legs so he was in a straddle as well, "I didn't expect you to even be able to touch your toes," Blaine began leaning to the right; Kurt quickly diverted his gaze from the boy's now-visible torso, since his uniform had hitched up from performing the stretch. Without looking at Blaine, Kurt crossed his right leg over his left and turned to the left, pushing against his knee-the burning sensation had moved to his right IT band on the outside of his thigh, a particularly sore spot. Kurt gritted his teeth as he completed the stretch on both sides and then lied down on his back to do his hamstrings. He was pleased that he was able to ignore Blaine for so long, and even more relieved that Blaine was silent. The only sounds in the room were their breathing patterns as they stretched their muscles. It was strange, knowing that it was just the two of them alone, and it made Kurt feel a bit uncomfortable.

Kurt nearly jumped as he felt the hand on him again; he didn't see Blaine return because his eyes were closed. It was sitting on his upper shin (of course he'd found a fresh bruise from practice), pushing his knee even closer to his chest. While it was helping him, Kurt was getting a little confused. Blaine never touched him; why would he openly touch him? Kurt could stretch by himself.

"Why are you doing this? Shouldn't you be stretching yourself?" At that, Blaine grabbed Kurt's other knee; Kurt shuddered as Blaine grazed his other upper thigh with his hand as he reached to straighten the other leg out-on accident? Regardless, Blaine pressed with more fervor.

"You're the one who's going to be practicing, not me," Blaine snapped quickly, and released his leg, signaling with his hands for Kurt to lie on his stomach. He reluctantly did so, and cringed as his cheek brushed the dirty ground. Blaine then bent his right leg back; his quad burned as his foot neared his butt. Finally, something landed on it-at first Kurt believed he'd actually bent his leg back that far, but it didn't feel like a foot...

_Blaine Anderson is touching my butt. Correction: Blaine Anderson is _massaging_ my butt._

"Oh my God!" Kurt flipped on his back uncouthly and stared up at Blaine in disbelief as the boy quickly climbed on his hands and knees on either side of Kurt. Thin hazel rings encircled the large, deep holes that were the pupils of his sultry gaze; Kurt had never seen Blaine like this. He wasn't smiling; there was a hint of desperation playing on his parted lips. The blaze in his eyes was almost primitive. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kurt didn't know what else to say or do. He was shaking with anger, yet still felt numb at the same time. Blaine had gone from despising Kurt's guts to _this_. What had caused this transformation, Kurt had no idea, but he had the feeling he was about to find out.

"The things you do to me, Hummel," Blaine replied huskily, and moved his knees in so they were touching Kurt's thighs, making an unfamiliar feeling lurch in his core. Blaine was close enough so Kurt could catch a whiff of the fruity, pungent gum he was chewing. Kurt was uncomfortable with how close Blaine was, and how he was looking at and touching him...Kurt shifted a little, and Blaine closed his hand over one of Kurt's wrists. _Oh God. This is _not _happening._ Kurt wildly shifted his gaze around the room, trying to look at anything but Blaine's eyes, but found that they drew him in like magnets.

"C'mon, why don't we forget about practice," He continued under his breath, his lips grazing Kurt's ear. Kurt felt a wave of chills travel down his spine completely unrelated to the fact that it was cold in the gym. His free hand trailed down Kurt's chest as Blaine leaned even closer to him, closer than anyone else had ever been before, when Kurt finally came to his senses.

"No! I don't-we're not-I won't let you use me like that," Kurt said adamantly, and scooted away from Blaine, finally freeing himself from his iron grip. He stood up, looking down upon Blaine's shocked, crouched figure. "What the hell is your problem?" Kurt queried, finally finding stability in his voice and thoughts. His question echoed throughout the empty room. Blaine had gotten to his feet and was staring at the floor, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He then looked up at Kurt, his eyes dark and obscured by his furrowed eyebrows. It was such an intense expression that Kurt had to stare at the floor.

"Do you know why," he started shakily, a strange, strangled emotion in his voice, "I've been trying to ignore you? Why I'm so mean to you? Why I requested to do this training with you? Yes, it was my idea, not Coach's. She doesn't give two damns about you, really." Kurt opened his mouth to interject, but saw that Blaine was sincere in this admission that he was the one who suggested starting the extra practices. "Because I know that you're good. Because I want you to stay on the Cheerios, and be in Glee club, but I can't stand to be so close to you. Because, fuck, you make me feel things I'm not supposed to feel," he spat furiously, running his fingers through his now-frizzy, untamed curls, since he keep gripping them. It looked as if he was actually in pain. "I can't stop thinking about you; it's not _fair_! Why are you so damn irresistible, Kurt?" His eyes bored into Kurt's, pleading for an answer. "I'm the fucking captain of the Cheerios, I can't be staying up all night thinking of a-a freshman like you! I can't—Jesus, that song I sang yesterday? I was thinking about you. That song was _for_ you. I practiced so much, envisioning you every. Fucking. Time.

"But I can't help it, with how nice you are, how beautiful your voice is, how damn sexy your ass looks in that uniform-" he growled the last bit, and Kurt felt something catch in his throat. "Christ, Hummel, _why_?"

Kurt was stunned into silence for a minute, and finally found his voice. He was angry—he couldn't remember the last time he was this enraged. "I know: you have that little boy type of thing, where you treat your crush badly even though you l-like him," Kurt stuttered the last bit, realizing what he was implying. He could hardly piece together his thoughts. Blaine _liked_ him, that's why he hated him so. Blaine didn't seem the least bit affected by what Kurt just said, so he decided to take it a step further. He wanted to hurt Blaine, just as he had been hurt by him. He need to explain that he had actual feelings-and none for Blaine. "Anyway, you've just taken it to a whole new level of douchebaggery, since you just...came onto me. That's so low. It doesn't matter that I ma-you feel this way, you've always been a jerk. You're no better than someone who hates me. I will be treated like a person, not a toy for you to play around with."

Blaine shook his head, laughing a little. His eyes traveled over Kurt's heaving figure obscenely, making Kurt feel like he was under the lens of a dirty microscope. "Damn, you're hot when you're pissed, Hummel. I'm sure you'd be good with that in bed." Kurt blushed at Blaine's lewd comments. He never thought he'd discuss these things with Blaine, and he never wanted to. "My offer still stands, you know," Blaine began to advance towards Kurt again, but Kurt shook his head and crossed his arms. Just a week ago, he'd be very open to the idea, but now, there was no way.

"What is wrong with you today?! I told you, I'm not a fucking object for you to-for you to ogle at or fondle all the time!" While he wasn't proud of his churlish tone and the ridiculous amount of curses he was spewing, Kurt found there was no other way to get his animosity across.

"Jesus, Kurt, if you want to be a cock-blocker, then let's practice. I don't understand why you don't want to get some from me, but that's your stupid choice. All right, get going, and we'll take it from the top of the routine for half-time. That's what Coach wanted you to work on, since you're still struggling with that back-handspring. It's admirable that you were able to do it so quickly, but it's sloppy, so that doesn't matter. You also tend to fall behind, so work on listening to the beat of the music.

"I'm going to give you a rougher workout than what you'd get if I fucked you, so trust me, you're not going to be able to walk afterwards. Go on, take your place."

Although he was not keen on practicing that much, especially after what had just taken place, Kurt was relieved that Blaine had finally gotten his act together...somewhat. Kurt was shaking slightly as he took his place, which was the most he could to suppress the wide range of emotions he was feeling at that moment. Anger, confusion…a little curiosity?

_Just channel it all, use the energy_, Kurt thought. He needed to prove to Blaine that he didn't need to do these practices anymore. If Blaine was going to be this horny every week, Kurt wouldn't be able to take it. He was hardly able to deal with that one episode. Maybe if he didn't do too badly, Blaine would change his mind…

They ran through the routine a hundred times, with Kurt making a handful of mistakes here and there, much to his dismay. Blaine simply corrected him from afar in the stands, but wasn't rude in doing so. He told Kurt what to do, and Kurt did it. It was very awkward: Kurt could practically hear Blaine judging him, even though he didn't explicitly or implicitly say anything. Kurt tried to concentrate only on what to do, but Blaine's admission had him all out of sorts-it was the worst when he'd recall the feeling of Blaine's knees against his thighs, or the smell of that damn orange gum. That was when he made the most mistakes. It wasn't very often, though, so for the most part, Kurt did very well. The one problem he did have, though, was that Blaine was still looking at him like an object: this time, however, it seemed that he saw Kurt as a machine rather than a boy to objectify. Kurt rarely got water breaks, and while he worked like a horse, Blaine scrutinized his every wrong move.

Soon enough, Blaine called for him to stop. It felt as if he'd been practicing in that gym for days. He was sick of that damn song that they were performing with at half-time; if he had to hear it one more time Kurt was sure his ears would fall off.

"All right, we've got to get going. It's after 11; Coach said we needed to be out by quarter after at the latest. Is your ride here?" Blaine snapped his gum as he climbed down the stands, walking towards Kurt. Kurt got up from the split he was in, panting a little since he had just finished a tough sequence. Blaine had almost fulfilled his promise: Kurt was exhausted. His legs were rather wobbly, but he was able to walk. He did not want to think about the alternative that Blaine said would make him feel the same way.

"No, I didn't know exactly when we'd get out, so I said that I'd call." He didn't want Burt to waste his time waiting in the parking lot when he could be watching that football game he had missed the other day—Burt got in a very bad mood when he missed a game.

"Shit. Okay, I'm going to have to give you a ride home. Get your stuff," Blaine said, picking up his own bag and scavenging it for his keys. Kurt stopped in his tracks.

"No no no, not after what happened tonight," Kurt replied, shaking his head. _There is no way I'm going to be that close to him in an enclosed space_, he thought.

"A night-shift janitor is going to be here soon; the deal was that we get out of here before 11:15, as I said before," Blaine said hurriedly. "C'mon, Porcelain, let's get out of here." He began to speed-walk towards the door.

"Can't you just call me by my name? I'm sick of this 'Porcelain' and 'Lady' business." Kurt huffed as he caught up with the boy, frustrated that he had no choice but to follow him.

"I did, more than enough times, but it did nothing to change your opinion about me, did it, _Kurt_," Blaine sneered, opening the door. A cold blast of air welcomed them. Kurt followed him outside into the dark night after Blaine shut the door behind them, taking out a set of keys that Kurt assumed belonged to Coach, since there was on a chain attached to a silver tag with "_Sue Sylvester: National Champion_" engraved on it. Blaine locked the door and began to walk towards the lone Pathfinder in the parking lot in front of them: Kurt trailed behind him.

The walk to the car was silent. Kurt didn't dare say a word, since Blaine seemed to be dangerously close to falling victim to a fit of rage. Kurt himself was furious. _Why can't he just act like a normal person with a crush_, he fumed, _although I can't see how anyone can like me in that way. I never thought it would happen so soon, or that a person like _Blaine _would like me_. Kurt immediately chastised himself for the way he enunciated Blaine's name as if he was back to the day he first met Blaine and didn't know how much of an asshole he was. He was so different then, so much…calmer.

_Still, how can he _like_ me?_ Kurt couldn't help but wonder. It was simultaneously flattering and intimidating that someone could think of him that way, staying up all night…_Someone named _Blaine _could_..._Fuck, I did it again._

"Are you going to get in or what?" Blaine asked impatiently. Kurt snapped his head up, since he'd been staring at the ground: he found himself standing in front of the car that Blaine was already half-in.

"I'd like to go in the backseat, because frankly I'm uncomfortable with sitting up next to you," _I will not be bullied_, he thought boldly as he opened the back door on the passenger side. Kurt threw his bag in first and then took a seat on the leather padding, feeling a bit childish as he crossed his arms.

"If you insist," Blaine replied mockingly, and tossed his own bag in the passenger seat. He got into the driver's seat and stuck the keys in the ignition. "Do you need me to buckle you in, too?" Kurt could see Blaine's smirk though the rear view mirror. _God, I hate him_. He was acting more like a child than Kurt.

Kurt had lost all of his patience. "Why are you such a dick?" He retorted, watching the school disappear as Blaine finally drove away. He wished that he lived closer so he could just walk home and not have to deal with this abuse. He wished that he was a year older so he could drive himself. He just wished that Blaine didn't exist.

"Well, they say you are what you eat," Blaine's grin grew even wider.

"You disgust me," Kurt spat, absolutely revolted at Blaine's crude suggestion. There was, however, a tiny image in the back of Kurt's mind trying to envision Blaine in front of him-

"Kurt, did you hear me? I said I forgot to ask you where you live," Blaine's voice cut through Kurt's thoughts, which he was actually quite thankful for. The difference between Kurt's objectifications and Blaine's was that Kurt kept it to himself and didn't advertise it, and that Kurt loathed them with every fiber within his being. _Why does he do this to me? Why do I do this to myself?_

"Um, 21 Pine Way," Kurt answered quickly, his face burning as he tried to smother his buzzing mind. Blaine nodded and continued to drive; Kurt assumed that he knew where he was going.

They rode in silence. Kurt wished that Blaine would put some music on or do something to alleviate the heaviness of the utter quiet in the car. He took out his phone to occupy himself, just to see if Burt had called, since his phone was on silent. Unsurprisingly, he had three missed calls from his dad; they were all from a few minutes prior. Kurt decided against calling him, because they were nearing his house.

"Turn here," Kurt's high voice cut through the silence, "it's quicker." He was only helping Blaine so he could get out of his car and away from him as fast as possible. He also realized he was about to pass out, since his eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.

"Thanks," Blaine said gruffly, and he obliged. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that Kurt was sure his knuckles would burst out of his skin. Kurt wondered why Blaine seemed so uncomfortable, but his question was soon answered.

"_Kurt_," he said the name carefully, as if he was caressing the single syllable with his tongue, reluctant to let the delicate thing go in fear that it'd shatter in the air, "do you have any idea what you do to me?" His voice was unstable; Kurt was amazed at how similar the statement sounded to his thoughts.

"Well, you said my ass had something to do with it," he replied flatly, his answer contrasting his myriad of thoughts generated by the question. Blaine chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, a bit," he replied, "but…Kurt, you're just so good, and perfect, and so damn pure and innocent. Sometimes I can't decide if I want to uphold your chastity or corrupt you so badly that you can't walk straight for days."

Kurt was at a loss for words. All he could muster was "It-It's the third on the right" as Blaine turned onto Pine Way. Blaine seemed so serious in that laden statement.

Finally, he pulled into Kurt's driveway: Burt was standing outside the front door in his bathrobe. Mortified, Kurt gathered his things and burst out of the car like a bat out of hell the second Blaine put it in park. He watched in silent horror as Burt rushed over to the car, waving his hands to get Blaine's attention. Kurt could see the amused expression on Blaine's face as he rolled down the window.

"Yes, Mr. Hummel?" Kurt could hear his sycophantic voice from where he was standing by the front door, frozen with embarrassment.

"Hello, are you a friend of Kurt's? Thanks for giving him a ride," Burt panted, still out of breath from his run. Blaine seemed disappointed that Burt didn't know his name.

"Yes, my name is Blaine," _You're not my friend_, Kurt seethed. "I'm the captain of the Cheerios; we were just working on his routine." _It didn't start out like that! _"He's pretty good, but he needs to really improve if he wants to go to Nationals. Now that he's in Glee club, he needs to do this extra practice in order to make up for the days he'll miss. Is that okay?" _Please say no, please say no…  
_  
Burt took a second to reply. "Yes, I understand. That sounds fine, Blaine. But on one condition, though." Blaine leaned over, his arm splayed on the car door. "You have to take him home afterwards, just like tonight. I want a call from Kurt once you two finish up, and I expect him home by 11:15 at the absolute latest. My son needs his sleep, and time to do his moisturizing regimen, alright?" Kurt's entire being lit up in flames as Blaine sent him a questioning look at "moisturizing regimen."

"I want you to do whatever it takes to win, but I don't want him to get beat up too much, you hear?"

"Of course, Mr. Hummel. Is that all?" Kurt never wanted to slap Blaine more than in that very moment. He was so damn pretentious; Kurt could practically see his pompous aura.

"Yep. Thanks again for driving him. Wait, why don't I give you his phone number so you two can keep in touch about this arrangement." _No, no, no, no, NO! _Kurt nearly screamed.

"That's a great idea; let me get my phone." Kurt did not like the eager look on Blaine's face as they exchanged phone numbers. He did not even want to think about looking at his phone ever again: he was sure any messages he'd receive would not be related to practice: they'd probably be more along the lines of what Santana had showed him the week before.

"And hey, if you ever have any problems with your car, I can fix it up in my shop." Burt added as they finished. Kurt hated how generous his father was.

"Sounds great! Thank you, Mr. Hummel, it was so nice to meet you. Bye, Kurt," Blaine waved at the fuming boy with a large smile on his face; Kurt fought the urge to flip him off. He turned and stormed into the house as the car backed away, glad to finally be rid of Blaine.

"He seems like a decent guy, don't you think?" Burt asked as he walked in the house after Kurt, who had just taken out his half-empty water bottle from his bag.

"No-" for a second, Kurt felt like divulging how much of an asshole Blaine was, but then decided not to. Burt would not let him stay on the Cheerios if he knew what had happened, and frankly he didn't want to stress his father out.

"He's okay. I don't know him that well-yet. He's also in Glee."

"Good for him. I'm glad that you're making new friends." He clapped Kurt of the shoulder. "Geez, he must have the cheer squad all over him."

Kurt turned away and walked towards the sink to empty his water, hoping that Burt didn't see the rosy flush staining his cheeks. He realized that he didn't ask Blaine about the whole Brittany debacle; in fact, he'd completely forgotten about it. He remembered seeing them smushed up against his locker, Blaine's eyes landing on his when he surfaced for air—

_Oh my God. How did I not see it?_

"Nah, he doesn't want to complicate his relationship with them." The irony of the statement nearly killed Kurt. The revelation he had just made punched him in the stomach like a robust fist: Blaine wanted to make Kurt _jealous_.

"Oh. Does he have a girlfriend?" Burt inquired, and Kurt accidentally dropped the bottle he was now cleaning in the sink; it clattered loudly against the other dishes.

_Not exactly._ "Not that I know of," Kurt answered vaguely. "Why are we talking about this? You know this isn't exactly my department."

"I know. However..." Burt's voice trailed away, and Kurt knew something was up.

"What?"

"On Friday, we're going to Breadstix so you can meet my girlfriend." Burt stated, and prepared himself for Kurt's response.

"What!? You have a girlfriend?" Kurt exploded. Evidently, he wasn't the only one keeping secrets. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but Burt held up his hands in defeat.

"Yep. We haven't been dating for that long, don't worry. You kind of know her, too...I'm tired, so we'll discuss this more later. I want you to get to bed as soon as possible, okay?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm not going to let this go," he called to Burt's retreating figure. His body was racked with fatigue, but his mind like New York City, blazing with lights and sound and _life_.

* * *

Sleep continued to elude Kurt a few hours later as he lay in his bed, watching the minutes and hours tick by on his alarm clock. His mind had finally shut up, and his body was pretty much dead, but he simply could not fall asleep. Sometimes he'd still feel the ghost of Blaine's knees against his legs, the touch of his hands on his thighs, his butt, his chest...he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It just felt...weird.

He needed to do something about the whole Blaine situation, and figure out a way to not have to do those extra practices. It actually scared him, thinking that Blaine could work him so hard that he literally could not walk and then take advantage of him. It seemed that Kurt's words fueled him, that his negative reactions just made Blaine lust for him even more.

_What if I just ignore him?_ The thought popped up in Kurt's mind out of nowhere. _Maybe if I don't talk to him, he'll stop annoying me. I'll become boring and he'll give it up._

It wasn't an intricate plan, but it seemed like it was worth a shot to Kurt. Imagining Blaine leaving him alone made Kurt feel a little better. It even made his mattress seem more comfortable, and the darkness of his room seem even blacker…

* * *

A/N: What did you think? Reviews are always, always welcome, they really help me out :)


	5. Chapter 5

"So _that's _your plan?" Santana said, jutting her hip to the side as she stared at Blaine. The five Cheerio spies were huddled in front of the choir room a few minutes before the first official Glee club rehearsal; Blaine finally decided to divulge his plan for destruction to the rest of the group. Kurt stood as far away as possible from him. There was an unspoken, unaddressed tension between them: Kurt wasn't sure if the others noticed.

"We act normal until Regionals, and then at the competition we fuck everything up. I'm probably going to get a solo, so I'll just mess up the words, the notes, the choreography, and we'll lose. It'll be really embarrassing for them, just as Coach likes it. Simple as that. Figgins will see that we suck so badly and barely have enough interest, so he'll cut the program, and Coach will be happy. Done." Blaine crossed his arms and stared at them scornfully. He did not look at Kurt. Surprisingly, he'd left him alone the whole day—not that Kurt was complaining.

"You really are dumb," Quinn laughed, "let me take this over, since you are going to get us in so much trouble. If we do that, it'll be so obvious that we're trying to sabotage the Glee club. We'll screw ourselves over, and Coach, not to mention that we'll just look stupid in doing so. I'm the queen bitch at this school-" she didn't notice Santana shooting daggers at her, "-so let me take this over. I know what I'm doing."

"Spill." Santana retorted, and Quinn flashed her a toothy smile.

"We tear them from the inside out. We plant little seeds of corruption and the weeds will grow rapidly. Turn them against each other: for example, 'oh, Rachel, I heard Mercedes say that you should go see a vocal coach instead of turning to your cat for singing lessons.' Something along those lines; it's easy. Get them all pissed at each other, and they won't want to be in the club together. People will believe anything you tell them, as long as it's believable."

"Nice one," Santana commented, and the others agreed. Kurt was horrified. _What am I going to do? I can't let them do this. It's wrong. I won't let them do this to my best friend. _"You okay, Hummel? Looks like you're constipated," she commented as she studied Kurt's face, which he instantaneously relaxed. He nodded, spewing some incoherent fragments so she wouldn't ask any further. She shrugged her shoulders and turned to face the rest of the group to talk some more, but was interrupted.

"Some of the members of the Glee club are arriving: Cheerios, dissemble!" Brittany announced, and jumped away from the group. Although she earned looks from the rest of the cheerleaders, she was right: Rachel was jubilantly bobbing down the hallway, almost skipping next to Tina, who was slightly hunched over due to the mass of books in her arms. Rachel seemed to be babbling about something to her that she apparently did not care about. Blaine promptly walked away to God-knows-where, and the rest of the assembly dispersed. Kurt headed over towards Rachel, an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach since Santana had just used her as an example to the prelude of their plan.

"What's the matter, Kurt? Why were you just standing with all of the Cheerios?" Rachel queried when Kurt met her halfway through the hall while Tina hurried away. She looked concerned—Kurt was sure that he had pulled the constipated face again.

"Nothing, nothing…you know, talking about cheerleading stuff, boring stuff," _Should I tell her? She has a right to know. But you'll get kicked off the Cheerios if anyone finds out, and I'm pretty sure that Coach has every inch of this school bugged…hell, this uniform might even be bugged…_

"Oh, okay. Where did Blaine disappear off to? Practice is going to start soon! Speaking of, what happened yesterday at your private practice thing? You've been mum about it, and I can't take it anymore!" She grabbed his arm and started pulling on it, begging him to spill. "Tell me tell me tell me!"

There was a reason why Kurt didn't tell Rachel about the disastrous practice from the night before-in fact, he hadn't told anyone-he did not want Blaine to win. Blaine had not spoken to Kurt since, or even looked at him as far as Kurt knew, which he was thankful for, but he knew it was the calm before the storm. When the time came for Blaine to take full advantage of having his phone number and having to spend Wednesday nights with him, Kurt knew he'd be ready for it. He could do it by himself: he handled the near-rape experience on his own, so he could do anything. If anything, he felt empowered by the event. He especially felt that he didn't need to get anyone else involved: he didn't want to worry his father or Rachel. There was no need to: Rachel would probably go to the guidance counselor while his father would go to the whole Board of Education and even worse, Blaine's parents. Kurt believed in his strategy of ignoring Blaine-it had worked thus far. Then again, it had only been a day, and he potentially had a long time to go if Blaine was persistent. Kurt was stronger than him in his eyes, so he was sure it wouldn't be long. Soon enough, Blaine and his perverted antics would be a distant memory, he was sure.

"Not much. Blaine worked my ass off." _Literally._ "Let's go in the choir room, then, if you're so eager to start." Kurt changed the subject, which Rachel did not seem to mind.

"Yay! Our first real rehearsal! Last night I spent some time picking out the solos I'd like to do; some _Wicked_, some _Les Mis_, and how could I forget Barbara…"

"Oh hon, you can forget about all of that as long as I'm here! Your voice is nothing compared to mine, so you might as well hand those solos over." Mercedes walked up behind them, obviously overhearing their conversation. She flipped her hair as she passed them and entered the room.

"It's on, Mercedes!" Rachel called after her as she rushed past Kurt to follow her in. Kurt's stomach twisted in an unpleasant way, realizing that Quinn's plan could actually be effective considering that what she had suggested had just occurred right before his eyes in a much milder way. Regardless, Kurt trailed behind her.

Members of the Glee club were scattered around a few rows of chairs circled around the room. A piano stood in the middle of the floor; a few volunteer members from the band were sitting with their instruments, looking bored as ever. Kurt seated himself next to Rachel, who was behind Quinn and Finn. Near them were Artie, Tina, and Mercedes. Brittany and Santana sat together towards the back, and Blaine had appeared out of nowhere, isolating himself from the group by sitting on Kurt's far left. Mr. Schue was nowhere to be found, so of course the room was alive with chatter. Various conversations floated throughout the room, completely unrelated to the club. Kurt couldn't help but overhear Finn and Quinn's conversation in front of him (Rachel seemed to be listening in with interest next to him, her eyes glued to Finn):

"So, baby, want to go out tomorrow night?" Quinn asked him sensually, her hand on Finn's thigh.

"Can't, sorry," he answered, a tinge of regret in his voice. "My mom's making me meet her boyfriend and his son tomorrow night." Kurt sat up in his seat, his body growing rigid. That sounded awfully familiar. _Please don't say you're going to Breadstix, _please_…_

"Where are you going? I can pick you up afterwards and we can go to see a movie, or go back to my house, since my parents will be out," she replied suggestively. Finn didn't seem to pick up on the implication of the statement.

"Breadstix at six. I don't know if we're doing anything after it, so I'll let you know. Your house sounds pretty good, too." Kurt groaned inaudibly, and Rachel kicked his chair multiple times. He did tell her about his father's date, and she was staring at him with a look of disbelief on her face, also making the connection. Before she could say anything, however, Mr. Schue walked into the room.

"All right, all right, everyone settle down! Are you all excited for our first rehearsal?" He asked animatedly, and Rachel was the only one to respond by cheering and clapping. Kurt simply smiled, which was an improvement from the collection of groans from the back of the room.

What Kurt didn't realize, however, was that Santana had been studying Kurt very closely, and noticed how he'd stared at the back of Finn's head rather intently. The wheels were turning in her head…

"I don't trust our little Porcelain over there, Brittany…he seems to be a little too into this, and too friendly with that Berry girl," she turned to her friend, "I think we need to whip him into shape by involving him in our little endeavor with this club."

* * *

"Do I look okay?" Burt queried nervously. Kurt reached over from the passenger seat of the car to fix his father's bow tie. Friday night had finally arrived, and Kurt couldn't tell who was more anxious about the date. From what Kurt understood, this definitely was not their first date, but he was still sweating bullets about it.

"I picked it out, so you're perfect. Stop worrying, Dad, everything will be fine." He decided to not admit that he was unsure of the last part himself. Kurt hadn't told his dad about what he'd heard at Glee, since his dad was probably hoping that it'd be a nice surprise for Kurt to see a peer and fellow Glee club member. He didn't know that Kurt had a fading crush on him, and Kurt didn't intend to have him find out. Kurt wanted this to go perfectly for his father—he deserved this.

"All right, kid, let's go," they opened their respective doors and stepped out into the Breadstix parking lot. Burt trudged on to the restaurant with his son by his side: Kurt could not remember the last time his father had been this jittery.

Soon enough, they found themselves inside the building, waiting for Burt's "mystery" date to arrive. The aroma of garlic and delicious bread caused Kurt's stomach to growl impatiently-of course Burt had insisted on coming ten minutes early, so they had some time to go. Kurt waited patiently with him, watching his father quietly go over all of the advice Kurt gave him. He looked a little ridiculous, but Kurt decided to cut him a break. As he looked through the restaurant, he was relieved to find that he did not recognize anyone.

"Burt?" The moment of truth: Kurt turned his head in the direction of the female voice to see Mrs. Hudson, a pretty brunette with the biggest smile on her face. She threw her arms around Burt and amiably pecked him on the cheek. Behind her was Finn, who was gaping at the sight of Kurt next to his mother's boyfriend. Kurt decided to ignore this and grinned at the woman, who had now faced him.

"Carole, I'd like to introduce you to my son Kurt. Kurt, this is Carole Hudson." Burt introduced them enthusiastically, and they shook hands. Her hand was soft and genuine in his; Kurt liked her already.

"And of course, I believe you know my son Finn? He's two grades above you, correct?" She let go of Kurt's hand and pushed Finn closer so they were facing each other. Finn still had that shocked look on his face, and something else lurking with it. Kurt nodded.

"Yeah, I'm a freshman, and you're a junior, right?" Kurt knew that he was a junior, but he didn't want to seem like he'd studied Finn's Facebook all summer. Finn kind of grunted and stiffly nodded his head.

"Okay, why don't we get seated," Burt suggested, and took Mrs. Hudson's (_Carole's? Can I call her that yet?)_ hand. Kurt and Finn awkwardly walked behind them, not acknowledging him. Finn seemed abnormally closed-off from Kurt; he lagged behind a bit, a guarded aura surrounding him.

They were seated in a secluded booth towards the back of the restaurant; Kurt sat next to his father, facing Finn, who was sitting next to his mother. Finn stared adamantly at the menu in front of him, completely ignoring the world around him. Something was off: there was no way Finn was this antisocial. Sure, he was a little awkward, but he wasn't this silent, and his jaws looked as if they were glued shut.

Perhaps he was uncomfortable with the idea of his mother dating again. Kurt's mother passed when he was relatively young, but she was still very much alive to him-in his heart. It had taken Burt a long time to get over her death; it took Kurt a years as well. After a while, Kurt realized that his mother would not want him to keep mourning, since life always goes on and does not stop for anyone, no matter how wonderful and important they are. He knew she'd want him to live life to the fullest...perhaps she would be okay with the fact that he was gay. Nevertheless, Kurt knew he couldn't live in the past, and not could his father-he knew it was a matter of time before Burt entered the dating world again. He'd accepted that fact-he actually encouraged it, dropping some hints to his father. His dad needed a woman in his life-at least, someone who could cook something more than spaghetti or microwaveable meals.

Finn, on the other hand, did not seem as on-board. Kurt watched the couple converse happily; Finn remained a rigid statue in his seat, his eyes boring into his unopened menu. Kurt felt badly for him.

"You okay, Finn?" He asked softly, deciding to break the silence between them. Burt and Carole did not notice, as they were completely focused on themselves at the moment.

Finn quickly glanced up and then back down at the table. "Yeah," he answered shortly, and flipped the booklet open. Disappointed by his curt response, Kurt decided to try to start a conversation with him, since Kurt suspected that Burt and Carole were exceedingly happy with each other and were going to stick together for a very long time. He did not want to jeopardize their beautiful relationship by not befriending her son. If they were going to be in this situation for a while—_what if they get_ married?—Kurt figured that it'd be prudent to get to know Finn better and at least be on friendly terms.

"So what do you think about Glee?" He inquired, propping his head up in his hands.

"S'okay," Finn mumbled, crossing his arms against his lanky figure. _Why must talking to him be like pulling teeth?_ _Why is he making this so damn difficult?_

"All right...are you ready for the game tomorrow?" Finn was the quarterback of the football team, as far as Kurt knew. He was surprised he even knew the term, considering he knew nothing about the sport even though it was on in his house all the time, and his father often kicks him off from watching _Sex and the City _for a game.

"Look, do you mind not talking to me?" Finn burst out of nowhere, "I know all about it, you don't have to be so obvious."

"What are you talking about?" Kurt replied angrily. Their parents were completely oblivious to their heating exchange. Kurt truly had no clue what Finn was getting at; he was acting completely normal, while Finn was not.

"Sant-someone told me what you think of me. Dude, I-I'm straight. I have a girlfriend. That's messed up." Kurt could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"What!?" He intoned, not quite grasping what Finn was saying. "Seriously, what are you _talking_ about?"

"Boys, are you going to order your drinks?" Carole interrupted; their waiter was standing at the table, staring at the two of them.

"Coke," Finn said gruffly, and Kurt responded with a Shirley Temple, hold the cherry. He took their orders and walked away, and Kurt awaited Finn's response, which never came.

"So Kurt, how has your second week of high school been?" Carole addressed him while he stared at Finn. Deciding that he'd figure that out later, he smiled at Mrs. Hudson.

"It's been...a change," he answered carefully. "Very different. Everyone is pretty nice," he sent a forced smile at Finn, who frowned. It was a massive lie, but it slid right past the two adults.

"And how is it, being on the Cheerios? You'll be at the game tomorrow?"

"Yep, first game of the season. Maybe we'll see you tomorrow?" They'd just gone over that—Finn had not taken to kindly to it, obviously.

"Actually, we're going to carpool," Burt said as the waiter returned rather quickly with their drinks. "You two need to be there earlier than we do to watch, so would it be okay if Finn picked you up? We're going to relax in the empty house," he reached his hand across the table to grab Carole's, beaming warmly at her.

"Sounds good," Kurt answered briskly, hoping that they'd be able to talk about whatever the hell was wrong during that time, since they'd be in the privacy of the car rather than have the possibility of being overheard. Evidently Finn was mad at Kurt for whatever reason, and Kurt did not want to risk their parents' relationship by involving them in some petty argument. Kurt could see how good they were for each other, how happy Carole made Burt and vice-versa. Finn didn't seem to feel the same way: he grunted an unenthusiastic reply, which his mother interpreted as "fine."

Whatever Finn was talking about was not brought up again throughout the rest of dinner: Carole and Burt engaged both of them in conversations so the Hudsons and Hummels could familiarize themselves with each other even better. Kurt found that he really liked Carole. She was nice, funny, and very personable. She made it known that she really liked Kurt, too.

"Oh Burt, you raised your son to be such a wonderful gentleman," she said as they finished up their food (Finn had been silent throughout the majority of the meal due to the fact that he was wolfing down his huge pasta dish), "it's too bad that his mother isn't here to see him," Kurt found that he wasn't offended by this statement, considering who had just said it: he was rather touched. Carole could never replace his mom. She had a special place in his heart; he began to feel that maybe there was some room nearby for Carole.

Burt was evidently very moved by this, as his breath hitched a little. "Thank you, I'm sure she'd be very proud. Elizabeth would have liked you and your son. I can't wait to see you play and to watch some games with you Finn…and of course, to, um, watch you cheer him on, Kurt," his father added. "All right, all right, enough of this sappy stuff. I'd like to propose a toast," Burt said, raising his half-empty soda glass. "To a long, happy life shared by the Hummels and the Hudsons!" They clinked their glasses; Finn barely touched Kurt's.

* * *

Later that night, Kurt logged onto Facebook to discuss the details of the dinner with Rachel, who instructed him to do so right after they got home. While she didn't explicitly say so, Kurt knew she wanted to know everything about Finn and what had occurred regarding him. She had no idea.

(10:29): **Does Finn have something against me or something?**

(10:30): What?! What happened?!

(10:32): **The date itself went fine between our parents, they were so consumed with each other throughout the whole night**

(10:32): oooh any kissing?

(10:34): **damn it Rachel I wasn't done…just a little peck on the cheek before and a little kiss afterwards…nothing too graphic, thankfully. But finn…omg. He started saying stuff about how I needed to stop talking to him and how he's straight and has a gf? Does he think I like him or something?**

Kurt paused to read what he'd just sent to Rachel. Yes, prior to the date, he did harbor some romantic feelings for Finn. After how Finn treated him, however, they had completely disappeared. Kurt soon learned that Finn could be a real jerk, and could hardly believe that Mrs. Hudson raised such a mean kid.

(10:36) oh. my. god. Santana and finn were chatting in personal finance today and I heard Santana say "he really likes you; you're all he talks about at practice." I didn't realize they were talking about u!

(10:37) **I AM GOING TO MURDER HER! Wait, I probably shouldn't say that on the internet…no but really, I can't believe her. I'm about to explode.**

The Cheerios' first victim was Finn…and a member of the group. It made no sense. Why would she try to hurt a fellow cheerleader? Also, Finn was Quinn's boyfriend—why would she target him? Fuming, Kurt scanned the chat on the side of his screen and found that Santana was also online. Without even thinking properly, he clicked on her name and started typing furiously.

(10:39): **What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you trying to get me kicked out?**

(10:42) **Oh Porcelain, my sweet baby freshman…what in the world are you talking about? :)**

(10:43): **You know exactly what I'm talking about. Why did you tell him that?**

(10:44): **What? Can you be specific? There are too many lives I'm ruining; it's hard to keep track sometimes.**

(10:46): **Ugh. Why did you tell finn that I like him? That's not true at all.**

(10:49): **oh, that. Your too budy-buddy with Miss Gold Star Jew. I want to make sure that you don't tell her.**

Kurt cringed at the grammar mistake, and then switched back to Rachel's chat to explain as much as he could to her.

(10:51): **ugh, she doesn't like how we're good friends. I guess she doesn't like you.**

(10:52): she's just jealous that I'm so much better than her!

Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend's egotistical disposition, and decided to talk to Santana some more because he felt that there was more to her reasoning—she couldn't be that mean, right?

(10:55) **All right, why did you do it to Finn? Wouldn't it be easier to get the more sensitive people out?**

(10:56) **finn is sensitive, dumbass. He always wears an undershirt or wife beater or whatever so no one can see his bare skin. I know this because I frequent the boys' locker room for action you and your virgin ass isn't going to get unless you gain some kind of personality. Anyway, if he gets too uncomfortable with staying in Glee, he'll leave. He's the most popular kid there, basically, so no one else will ever want to join, and they still don't have enough people.**

(10:59): **it's not fair that you used me. Our parents are dating and you're going to ruin it all.**

It was probably a mistake to reveal that information to her, and he was going a little extreme, but he was still livid. Santana was so eager to destroy the club, and it disgusted Kurt.

(11:02) **your wasting my time. Bye.**

(11:02): Kurt?

Kurt closed out of Santana's chat and changed to Rachel's, telling her that he was tired and that maybe they could hang out sometime over the weekend. He signed off and put his laptop away, hoping that sleep would come soon.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a loud buzzing sound erupted from his night table. He blindly reached his hand over for his phone, mumbling curses as he finally got a hold of it.

(11:20) _Kuuuuuuuuurrrrrttttttttttt_

(11:22) _Ehehehe I have your number you can't stop me_

Kurt groaned. Blaine was acting ridiculous—he was probably drunk or something. _Dad, why did you give him my number?_ He asked himself in earnest.

(11:26) _if youre sleeping then fine you are missing out but ugh why dont we just hang out after the game I know you have needs nd I do too_

(11:30): _cmon lady I no youe wannnt it_

(11:) _you suck. (I hope)_

* * *

The next two weeks basically passed in a similar fashion. Kurt did not speak to either Finn or Blaine: he was sure that any explanation he tried to give Finn would not cut it. Glee club had a few more rehearsals, and two more people joined (Coach made them all do sprints at the end of practice): Kurt found that he enjoyed Glee a lot more than the Cheerios, and regardless of Santana's opinion, he stuck with Rachel, and in turn befriended Mercedes, Tina, and Artie. As far as he knew, the Cheerios had not come up with any more ideas to decimate the club, but Kurt was sure that the Unholy Trinity (as Santana, Quinn, and Brittany were called) was formulating a master plan.

Blaine, on the other hand, had finally gotten the message that Kurt wanted nothing to do with him. The awkwardness between them lifted once they returned to school that Monday, and he used any opportunity he got to talk to Kurt, who simply turned his head the other way. Private practice that Wednesday was excessively difficult, since Blaine decided to talk to Kurt while he was doing the routine. Kurt continued to successfully ignore him, so Blaine looked like he was talking to himself. As the week wore on, Blaine began to back down, much to Kurt's surprise. By practice the next week, Blaine only said a few words to him: "Hello", "fix that turn", and "see you later". It was oddly satisfying, knowing that he'd conquered the cheer captain in a matter of weeks. Kurt figured that he'd just grown bored of Kurt, and that he preferred the thrill of an exciting chase.

This all changed, however, when Blaine texted him Friday evening a fortnight after his altercation with Finn and Santana.

* * *

A/N: **IMPORTANT!** Just to clarify, I do not in any way condone the way that Kurt is going about this non-consensual touching thing at all. **If you are touched in an inappropriate way without consent, ****_tell someone. _**Kurt will learn his lesson…

I'm sorry this took so long and that it's crap; I've been busy with school and everything, the usual...the good news is, I'm well into the next chapter, and it's a good one!

Also, my other fic "Until Next Time" recently got made into a PDF/ ePub file, so if you want to download that you can go onto my blog and find the "Until Next Time" masterpost on the sidebar.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

Trigger warning: allusion to self harm, violence, etc.

* * *

(6:06) _Help me_  
(6:07) _Kurt I'm gonna do it_  
(6:09) _oh god i fucking cant they're gonna kill me Kurt please_  
(6:12) _Kurt I'm jfc I can't even say it_  
(6:17) _I'm gonna tell my parents that_  
(6:20) _fuck I can't even say it over text_  
(6:22) _sorry for all of the texts I just don't know who to go to_  
(6:24) _I don't have anyone else_  
(6:26) _Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared_

Kurt stared at the new message on his screen. He'd been sitting on his bed for the past twenty minutes with his phone in his hand, trying to figure out what Blaine was saying. He was starting to scare Kurt. This was the first time he'd texted him in a week, and it was so different than the others, considering that they were usually propositions or about how much of an ass Kurt was for not answering.

The latest message stirred something within Kurt. _Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared_..._Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared_...that did not sound like the passive, perpetually angry boy Kurt knew. There was that one time he displayed his intimate side, yes, but this...this was completely new layer of Blaine. A vulnerable side-and it scared Kurt too.

Before he knew it, he quickly typed a message back. This was the first time he'd responded to Blaine's texts.

(6:29) **deep breaths. Are you close to that little park on forest street?**

(6:31) _it's within walking distance_

(6:33) **good, don't drive. I'll be there in 10. Just sit on a swing or something, okay?**

(6:35) _thank you._

It took him a while to see the last message because he was putting on a pair of shorts, a running shirt, and a light rain coat, considering that he could hear the hushed tapping of rain against his house. He read it as he ran upstairs, feeling his heart skip a beat: Blaine would never say thank you in a million years. This couldn't be a joke-there was something really, really wrong.

"I'm going out for a little, Dad," Kurt called out as he put on his running shoes. No answer-_I guess he's still in the shop_. Kurt ran into the kitchen and grabbed a pen and a sticky note, telling Burt that he was "going for a run." It wasn't really a lie-he was going to run. The park was not quite a mile from his house.

It was drizzling lightly when Kurt stepped outside: the gray, misty fog made it hard to keep his eyes open as he began to jog, something he rarely did. While Kurt hated running, it was the last thing on his mind. His legs mechanically guided him down the street, thumping against the slick pavement. All he could think about was Blaine. _Why did he start texting me again? What is wrong with him? What was he going to tell his parents?_

_Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared_.

Kurt's breathing started to become erratic due to the fact that running wasn't exactly his forte, and that he'd started to increase his pace despite that fact. He was actually nearing a sprint. His thoughts propelled him forward, giving him an incentive to reach Blaine. Forest Street was just around the corner: he turned onto it and cursed, realizing that he had a huge hill in front of him. It was incredibly steep, probably at a fifty degree angle with the park perched at the top. His mind was buzzing and his legs felt light—_this must be a runner's high_. While it felt good, he slowed his pace a bit, preparing himself for the dreaded track in front of him. _Just sprint it, you're almost there._

But he wasn't—he still had Blaine to talk to, and that was basically Mount Everest.

Breathing heavily, Kurt ran up the hill, full raindrops now beating against his back. His lungs, legs, and arms were on fire in the cold of the coming night. Soon enough, the park was in sight: the ground began to level, notifying Kurt that he could slow down. His heart rate and breathing rate were through the roof; he could feel his blood pounding in his head as his lungs pummeled his rib cage. He looked up and squinted, searching through the small park that was still fifty meters away. There was a figure sitting on a swing, as Kurt had suggested, but he was all hunched over and not wearing a Cheerios uniform, but rather a black coat and dark jeans. As he got even closer, he noticed that his hair was an un-gelled, soaked mop. It was such a strange, unfamiliar sight.

Kurt stepped onto the damp mulch, walking past the jungle gym and slides to get to the empty seat next to Blaine. He didn't seem to realize that Kurt was there: his face was in his hands, his body racking with silent sobs. His mute suffering was deafening. Kurt sat there, just watching for a couple of minutes: it was obvious that this truly was not some kind of ploy for Kurt to rush to Blaine's aid so he could use him. A faint tenderness began to overcome him as he caught his breath, seeing Blaine in such a depressing way. He was surprised to find that he felt badly for the boy, to see him in his state, when all he'd done was cause Kurt such pain. Regardless, nothing that Blaine had done could reduce him to tears, besides seeing this.

"Blaine?" He said softly, gently, afraid that Blaine didn't even hear him. Surprisingly, Blaine snapped his head up at the near-whisper.

"You came," his voice was scratchy and lost and so incredibly _broken_. There was no hint of a sneer, a scowl, nothing of Blaine's usual tone.

"Of course I did," Kurt replied, confused at Blaine's statement. He texted that he'd come, so he followed through. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" Kurt swung his feet a little bit, staring at the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine-his face was tinged red, obviously tear-stained even in the rain, and his eyes, those _fucking eyes_.

"It's been..." His voice wavered; he wiped his nose and mouth with his sleeve. "When did you c-come out, Kurt?"

Kurt was taken aback by the random question. "When did I tell everyone that I was gay? This summer. Why?"

"How did it-how'd it go?" Blaine asked, his eyes searching Kurt's face.

"Well, my dad didn't throw me out of the house," Kurt said flatly, and Blaine laughed-it was more of a series of sporadic coughs. "In all seriousness, it went okay. My dad kind of already knew, and he wasn't too crazy about it, but he accepts me for who I am."

"Oh." They sat in silence for a few minutes while Kurt tried to figure out what the point of this was. "I'm not sure if my parents will be like that." He sighed and dropped his head again.

"Wait, _what_?" Kurt asked incredulously. He was sure that Blaine was out. Coach called him her "right-hand gay", Santana "Gay Boy Wonder", and so many more. He'd clearly made it known to Kurt that he was gay.

"Let me explain. I just...I'm gonna try to get it all out in one-in one shot, 'cause that'll probably be easiest, so...so wait 'till I'm done, 'kay?" Kurt nodded, nervousness clenching at his stomach. Blaine's uneven tone hinted that the reason he hadn't come out yet was a rather awful one.

"In the beginning of eighth grade, I realized what was wrong with me." He shook his head. "No, I phrased that wrong. I realized that I was different. I hate that word. Anyway, I wasn't in this school district at the time, so I was with a bunch of different kids, kids that I'd grown up with, kids that I had befriended. I was actually kind of popular, I guess. I thought that since they liked me and…everything, they wouldn't care about...Jesus, I can't talk today, I'm sorry." He tried laughing again, and before Kurt could say it was okay, he continued on, his voice beginning to shake. "It was the Sadie Hawkins dance, right before eighth grade graduation," he started slowly, wringing his fingers furiously in his lap, "and I-I had met a boy through my cousin's Sweet Sixteen. We hit it off-I was able to talk to him about my feelings, and he was really nice and understanding. He agreed to go with me...as friends, but not really...and we had it all set. I would show up there with a boy on my arm, and..." He let out a long sigh. "My friends caught wind of it a week before the dance. I think one of them hacked into my Facebook account or something just to post stupid stuff like 'I love penis' or stupid, immature shit like that. I can't imagine how shocked they were to see that it was true," He scoffed, a despondent, crooked smile was plastered on his face as he recalled the memory, as if he was mocking the irony of it. "I didn't realize how homophobic they were. I mean, they'd throw around 'that's so gay', with a negative connotation every so often, but unfortunately that's been embedded into society's vocabulary as something bad. Gay used to mean 'happy', when did it start to have such an awful use? Sorry, I'm going on a tangent. This is just...really hard for me to talk about." A pause; Kurt looked at him and met his eyes, hardly able to hold their miserable gaze. "I've never told anyone about this." He said in a small voice, and Kurt's pulse quickened. Blaine had never looked or sounded so little.

"I went over to one of their houses later that day, just to hang with my friends, you know? Once I walked in, I knew something was up. They were all giving me looks, and not really talking to me. They started talking about girls and s-sex and how they'd bang them and shit...and then they-they started to talk about gay sex, and how it's...gross, and wrong, and anyone who does it should...should..." His voice cracked, and he shuddered. "I don't know how I didn't realize. I was kind of outside of the group, staring at the ceiling while listening to them berate my sexuality. Listening to them talk about how fucking messed up it is to look at a guy and think 'wow, he's attractive, I want to stick my dick up his ass' and stereotype us and-and I thought something was wrong with me. I started thinking...about doing things to my-myself to c-correct it..." Kurt noticed that he was rubbing his wrists, and felt something wring his heart like a rag, coiling the arteries and veins into a horribly painful knot, "but above all I was mad at them. I was absolutely furious. It was within a short period of time, and so I wasn't thinking clearly, but I knew that it was wrong to talk about people like that, like they have a mental defect. Comparing retardation to sexual orientation...I just don't understand that mentality. Fuck, I'm really bad at this." He took in a deep breath while Kurt let a long one out: he didn't realize he'd been holding it.

"I decided to speak up and say something like, 'dude, gay people aren't bad' or 'why are we talking about this' and then one of them said, 'oh, why don't we ask your little Facebook friend about that' and I was pretty sure that time froze. All of the blood drained from my face-I must've looked like I'd seen a ghost-and I remember just looking at their condeke-cocendem—fuck, condescending faces just st-staring at me. Like I was a fucking criminal. Like I had n-never been their f-friend. I wanted to do nothing more than cr-crawl up in...into a ball and cry for years...I c-couldn't speak at all and ask how they found out. Nothing in my body was funt—functioning, ugh. They started saying stuff, asking me about all the times we'd had sleepovers, if I wa-wanted to crawl into their sleeping bags, if I liked hiding in their cl-closets during hide-and-seek when we were fucking s-_six_...those weren't my friends. I had no idea what was going on. They star-started to c-call me a f-fa...names...we'd do that sometimes, just joking around like with the gay stuff, but this time they m-meant it. One of them dragged me off of the bed, saying that I probably wanted to t-touch myself thinking that I'd been si-sitting on it, and I just k-kind of stood in the mi-middle of the room, as if I was a p-piece of art being ridiculed by c-critics who don't. Fucking. _Understand_." His hands were gripping his knees, his knuckles bulging. Kurt continued listening, feeling numb, knowing it could only get worse. "Then someone said, 'your parents won't love you 'cause you're queer,' and I just lost it. This kid whose room we were in was some kind of a wrestling champion-ironic, right?-and so I found the n-nearest trophy sitting r-right there on his de-desk and th-threw it against the wall. Its thud was so loud, but not as loud as the silence that followed. The damn thing lay broken on the floor at my feet, which was all I could look at. Then the kid came and punched me in the face."

Kurt gasped; he couldn't help himself. That was the most he could do, as he had so far been rendered speechless. He looked at Blaine and realized that his eyes were red. The rain wasn't the only water trailing down his face. Kurt tried to rub the burning feeling out of his eyes, realizing that he was crying too. The acrid taste of salt was all too pungent in his mouth, but it could not combat the awful, empty feeling that plagued his being. Blaine's story had so far ripped a hole in his chest and was tearing him from the inside out.

"Some of the others started joining in. I guess they were all mad about whatever and decided to take it out on their punching bag, the gay kid. God, it hurt. It hurt so badly. The worst part is, I took it. I stood there-no, I blacked out and fell at one point," Kurt could not believe what he was hearing, "and let them hit me over and over again, asking me if I liked being touched by other boys.

"I don't even remember going home, how that happened. I'd gotten a concussion and lost my memory temporarily, as my parents found out when they took me to the hospital-yes, it was that bad. At that time, I didn't even remember going to my friend's house, but now I can't remember what happened after the last time I got kicked in the nuts the third time; I lost count of all of the other places." Kurt winced, unable to imagine the pain. "It's unfortunate that I had to remember everything else. They—my parents-still don't know exactly what happened. All they know is that for whatever reason, they decided to beat me up. None of the boys would fess up. Fucking cowards. I can't really call them that, though, since I'm one too." Kurt started to protest, but Blaine cut him off with a wave of his free hand while the other continuously wiped the accumulation of tears and rain on his face. "I told them that they'd been bullying me and then finally decided to kick the crap out of me. It was the easiest explanation. They barely asked why I got bullied, as I'd suspected, so I didn't have to come out. What they did do is transfer me to another school, aka Dalton Academy, that preppy school in Westerville; I don't know if you've heard of it. It was the easiest option; they dumped me on someone else's plate to make me feel better. It was a nice gesture, but…Christ, they didn't know how to deal with it. A year later, I decided that academy life was over-it was nice and all, but I didn't really like the environment, even though it was zero-tolerance and all-boys. I have to admit, it was a bit too snooty. My parents were fine with my choice as they saw that I was fine, especially since Dalton is so expensive, but they decided to put me here at McKinley. People are a lot better here, but..."

"You still isolate yourself," Kurt finally cut in, and Blaine nodded. "So how do Coach and Santana know that you're gay?" He decided it was the appropriate time to ask the question, even though he had at least a thousand more.

"I'd done gymnastics for a few years and decided to give cheerleading a shot, since I knew the Cheerios were national champs and that would look good for college and everything. That would also show all of those douchebags that I was 'getting loads of ladies' while they weren't (I doubt they are). Coach wasn't really sold on my excuse that I had no desire to sleep with any of the girls on the team when I tried out, because she was like, 'all of these girls are banging; any horny teenage boy would be popping a tent whenever he's staring up into a my ladies' baby ovens while holding them up' and I was afraid she wouldn't take me so I told her I was gay. It just kind of came out...no pun intended. I couldn't hold it in anymore, and I thought I was going to die when the admission left my mouth. For the first time, though, someone was nice to me about it. Well, you know how Coach is. She was glad that she could have a diverse team and not have to worry about me trying to knock up her precious girls." He laughed lightly, airily, without much meaning behind it. "Of course Santana and some of the others found out, but I have my own dirt on her so I can trust her...sometimes she slips, but most people think she's just making fun of me, since that's just what she's like. Even though she hates me now, I like her. Aside from her, I don't really have any friends. Captain of the Cheerios and an antisocial, closeted homosexual-go figure."

Kurt continued to stare at him, a fragile figure lost in the downpour of the somber environment and his mind. His last words rang in the pitter-patter of the rain. Kurt didn't know what to say or do: he let the heaviness of Blaine's story sink in, pressing down on his chest and heart and lungs. He couldn't imagine having to live with that, being betrayed by your best friends in such a grotesque, atrocious way...

"And now I just...I've been such a fucking insufferable dick to you, and I...God, you're like the epitome of courage, Kurt. You came out, something I'm still too cowardly to do even though I'm, Jesus, three years older than you, and you're much more mature than me. You don't seem to care whether people perceive you as a loser; I see you at Glee, and I know you love it. I mean, I like it too, I love singing and stuff but I have a job to do with the stupid 'destroying the Glee club' business, so I can't like it.

"Finally, you dealt with me. Shit, sometimes I...I can hardly p-put up with my...myself," the wavering in Blaine's voice had returned. "I'm just such a fucking coward for being so mean to you-I don't know how to deal with this, and I feel like such an idiot, and a major asshole. I hate, no, that's not strong enough; I _loathe_ every god-damn fiber within my body for doing what I did to you."

"No, you're not-"

"No, no, I need to get this all out. Today I realized just how amazing you are, Kurt, not that I wasn't conscious of it before. I'm not saying this from my personal perspective of you, well, partially, but anyway, you are just...I can't break you. I wanted to, and I'm such a horrible person for trying to do so, but I couldn't. I won't try anymore: I can't be wasting my life on a lost cause, since there was no way I'd ever end up with you, or someone as perfect as you. I texted you way too much, while I was drunk and sober, I tried to find you in the halls just to see you, I ignored you at practice to see if you missed me pestering you, just for one little look, even if it was a glare...and you eschewed me. Rightfully so, I guess. I tried so hard to snag you, yet in the wrong way. You are so _strong_. This time, though, I just needed you, and...here you are. It was out of panic that I texted you-I had no one else to go to, as I said." He choked a little. "I'm just so scared to go to my parents...I feel like I shouldn't be, but I am, I know that they have anti-gay sentiments and when I think about telling them, I can see them...l-looking so disappointed, a-and what that...that kid said a-about them..." Blaine finally broke down. He buried his face in his hands; Kurt could hear him over the noisy precipitation. He could not withhold himself any longer: he shifted over and gently held him in his arms, engulfing Blaine into a light embrace. Blaine shook even harder at his response, pressing himself into Kurt's body.

It was not a romantic gesture: it was a sign of forgiveness. He let Blaine vibrate against him, both of their thick walls finally crumbling to the sodden ground. It hurt to watch and hear they boy in so much emotional distress. Kurt felt a softness towards Blaine; a peculiar, mysterious connection. He finally understood why Blaine acted like such an asshole. It was his guard; it kept people from getting too close to him. It was the only thing he knew. Blaine didn't want anyone to learn too much about him, yet there Blaine was, sinking into Kurt's embrace, weak as ever, completely naked although he was clad in some layers of clothes. Kurt, however, saw it a completely different way.

"Blaine," he lisped, and gulped, trying to find his voice. It was so hard, so exceedingly hard to even look at the pathetic figure in his arms. Blaine's sobs began to slow down as he listened to Kurt. "Blaine," he started over, gaining confidence. "You are the one who's strong for finally telling someone about that. It's awful that you kept it in for so long," he cringed, remembering that it'd soon be a month since Blaine's inappropriate touching in incident and no one but the two of them knew about it. How ironic.

Blaine coughed. "Stop it, Kurt, you are-"

"Don't say that I'm perfect, because I'm not," Kurt cut in angrily, then calmed himself. He turned Blaine to face him, looking into his impossibly sad eyes, their irises a golden, watery hue. Those eyes alone could break Kurt into a thousand pieces and scatter them across the world, never to be found again; he struggled to keep himself together as he stared at Blaine. "No one is perfect. I guess you can say how imperfect humans are is perfect, if that makes sense." Blaine smiled, bringing a little light back into his face—it was the happiest Kurt had ever seen him, and it was beautiful. "You can't keep hiding yourself away, Blaine. While I hate to see you cry and everything, I've seen _you_. You need to tell this to the ones who matter most. It's not that your parents have a right to know, or anyone else for that matter: this is for you. You're restraining yourself. I know how much that hurts-it must be so much worse for you, since you have a whole other burden on your chest. I just-I much prefer to see you smiling than scowling at the ground all the time or-or like this," Kurt said, and realized that he was absentmindedly rubbing circles in Blaine's tense back. He stopped, but still held onto Blaine, his legs growing tired from holding himself so close to Blaine on the swing.

Blaine buried his face in Kurt's shoulder. "How did you feel after...after you came out?" He choked out, his bout of crying finally coming to a close.

Kurt reflected for a second. "For the most part, I was happy. I'd finally gotten a huge burden off of my chest, and it felt so good. A little part of me was scared about, you know, how people would treat me and stuff. For the most part though, it was a relief, and I don't regret it at all. It shouldn't matter what others think; how it makes you feel is what counts. You shouldn't have to hide apologize for who you are."

Blaine sniffled. "I'm going to do it anyway, Kurt, because one, I need to get this off of my chest, and two, you are entitled to it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can say it a thousand times; I will if you need me to. I'll lose my voice saying it. You deserve so much better than how I treated you. I would take back everything I did to you in a heartbeat. I'm sorry for everything I did to you, starting with the second day of school. I'm sorry for making fun of you, for—_fuck_, I'm such a moron-touching you inappropriately, and for this. Sorry for wasting your Friday afternoon, making you comfort me and risk catching a cold while I bitch about how much of a wuss I am. You're too good for me, Kurt." He shrugged Kurt off, straightening his back. He looked out into the distance, his face unreadable. "I'm gonna have to do it, aren't I, though. I'm gonna have to come out to the whole school eventually."

"Yeah, but you don't have to do it now," Kurt replied softly, his arms hanging at my side. They felt lifeless, as if they had no purpose if they weren't around Blaine. "Do it when you feel like you're strong enough to. I think now that you've gotten this all out, it'll be easier. You should tell your parents first, I think. And don't apologize: I forgive you. Now I know why you were such a jerk, and while it wasn't okay at all, I understand. I will help you. I think you—you need a second chance."

Blaine locked his eyes with Kurt, his eyes conveying absolute gratitude and…something else. Something beautiful. "Thank you," he whispered. "I—I think I will tell them."

"Can you explain one thing to me, though?" Kurt inquired, still holding his gaze with Blaine's hypnotic hazel eyes. "I know that you said you had no one else to go to, but—why me? You know that I hate—that I hated you, so why would you text me out of all people? Santana could work, too, and what about that boy? Are you two still in touch?"

"No," Blaine replied wistfully, finally casting his gaze down to the ground, where a small puddle was accumulating underneath his swing. The rain was slowing down a little, but it didn't make that much of a difference since Kurt was soaked to his core, his hair and clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Blaine seemed to be in the same position: he ran his fingers through his drenched raven-colored locks. "He pieced everything together when I told him that I got hurt really badly and couldn't go to the dance with him—if you couldn't tell, I didn't go to the dance due to the fact that I was concussed and I was actually scared to go to school for some time. I only went to school, like, for four more days that year. Those boys got in trouble, too: they didn't fess up to anything, though. Bastards. Anyway, the boy I was supposed to go with was afraid that those boys would find him, so he cut off all times. Also a bastard. Everyone left me in the end, even my parents.

"But back to your question, since I need to stop with the sob stories. I chose you because..." he started carefully; Kurt could tell that he was calculating his every word based on his cadence, "Well, Santana wouldn't…exactly…understand what I'm going through, and…she's basically my only friend at school, and you…you're openly gay, you've already done it so…I don't know, I wasn't really expecting an answer…I didn't think that you'd care. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, I just…felt the need to tell you."

Kurt wasn't sure what to say. As he opened his mouth to end the silence that followed, his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Ugh," he muttered under his breath as he read the text from his father on his screen, telling him to get his butt home as soon as possible for Friday night dinner, since Finn and Carole were coming again to watch whatever football game was on. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I've got to go, my dad's having Finn and Carole over again-"

"Kurt, do you like Finn?" Blaine queried quickly, snapping his head to face Kurt again, who'd gotten up from the swing. He should've known that the question would come, since nearly everyone in the Glee club had asked him the same thing. He stood in front of Blaine, who was still sitting in his seat, slightly moving from side to side.

"No," he answered truthfully. "Well, maybe a little, for a while, but he's a jerk. He's also straight, so I don't have a chance with him. It doesn't matter; Rachel has a raging crush on him so…oh crap, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," Kurt admitted, horrified that he'd revealed his friend's secret.

"Kurt, everyone in Glee club knows that Rachel is infatuated with Finn," Blaine replied, "did you see her singing that love song with her eyes locked on him the whole time last week? Anyway…I guess you don't, um, have a thing for jerks," he mumbled the last bit. Kurt knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Nope," he answered firmly, "but I have the impervious belief that jerks don't have to remain jerks forever. They have a heart; they just need to learn how to use it."

"Can someone teach them?" Blaine asked, a glimmer of hope shining in his brightening eyes.

Kurt held out his hand and sent him a smile. "Yes, but only if he's is willing to change."

Blaine took it, his calloused hand slippery in his, yet warm and certain. He got up from his seat, finally letting go of Kurt's hand when he was standing up straight. They walked together in silence through the empty park until they reached the end of the path.

"Do you mind…d'you mind walking with me to my house? It's a few houses down that way," Blaine pointed in the opposite direction that Kurt had to go. From what Kurt could tell, his house was situated just on the border of Lima and their neighboring town. He nodded, figuring that it wasn't that much out of the way, and that Blaine needed the security. They walked in sync, a comforting silence floating around them. It was not awkward in any way: it was a needed quiet after the storm, even though the rain had not quite stopped. Occasionally, Blaine would brush his hand against Kurt's thigh on "accident"; this also was not in an erotic manner, it was just for a reassuring touch to know that someone was beside him, not just physically there but supporting him. The indescribable smell of rain on the pavement wafted through the air, sending a refreshing wave of tranquility through Kurt, and evidently through Blaine, as he seemed to lose some of his rigidity as they strolled down the street.

Eventually Blaine stopped in front of a rather large house—Kurt followed suit. "This is it," Blaine said, his voice lacking emotion. "I'll see you on Monday?"

"Why don't you text me later so…so I know that you're okay. You don't have to do it right now, since we've talked about it and everything. Do it when you're ready. Do it the way you feel is right."

"Okay," Blaine said quietly.

"Okay." Kurt replied, unsure of what else to say or do. They stood across from each other for a second, and then Blaine turned away, trekking up the small hill of his driveway. Kurt watched as he looked out before disappearing into the garage, his mouth gaping open a little at the fact that Kurt was still there. He waved and then withdrew from view. Kurt sighed and walked back where he came from, eventually increasing his pace, knowing that from the buzzing in his pocket that Burt was starting to lose his patience.

Feeling physically and emotionally drained, Kurt passed the park and continued down the hill, letting his tired legs dictate his route.

* * *

"Kurt, where have you been?" Burt asked from the kitchen when he finally walked into the house fifteen minutes later. "We're waiting for you." He took off his shoes and coat, his shirt and pants sticking to his cool, wet skin.

"I told you, I went on a run." He snapped, finding his father. He wasn't sure why he was in such an irritable mood, but all he wanted was to be left alone. He peeked into the dining room, where Carole and Finn were chatting, Finn seated across from an empty seat. The last person Kurt wanted to see that day was Finn.

"A two-hour run? After practice and before a game?! How am I supposed to believe that? Okay, okay, we'll talk about it later," Burt murmured furiously as Kurt signaled that he was basically shouting while their guests were in the other room. "Get in there; I'm not done with you."

"Wow, Kurt, you're absolutely drenched! Why did you decide to go on a run in this kind of weather?" Carole asked, astounded at Kurt's state when he entered the room and took his seat. He looked down at his plate full of spaghetti his dad actually succeeded in cooking, then met her warm, concerned gaze.

"I just...I felt like it. Nothing like running in the rain, right?" He couldn't be mean to Carole. She was too good and kind. He could see Finn examining him in his peripheral vision, and turned his head to face him, sending him a look of warning. Finn immediately dipped his head—regardless of the fact that Kurt had evaded him since the rumor that he had a crush on him came into play, he still seemed to have a tenacious grip on making any interaction with Kurt uncomfortable.

"All right, everyone, dig in…half time is going to be over soon, and I don't want to miss any more of the game that I have to!" Burt announced, and everyone obliged, feasting on the slightly cold meal.

* * *

After dinner was done, the Hudsons and Burt scurried into the family room to watch the game which had just restarted. Kurt figured that cleaning up was more interesting than watching football. Shouts and curses filled the house as Kurt worked in the dishes, scrubbing the sauce from a plate furiously.

"Hey," Kurt nearly dropped it in surprise; Carole was standing in the doorway.

"Hello," he said softly, and Carole took it as an invitation to enter the room.

"Do you want me to help? Football isn't my thing either," she said, and Kurt smiled, handing her a plate. "I also want to give Finn and Burt some bonding time, since he…he's not really okay with this."

Kurt nodded. He put the plate in the drain board and started working on the next plate. They continued to clean in silence for a while, the running water and noise from the family room enough to satisfy their quiet.

"You know," Carole began gingerly, "I love your father very much. I hope you don't think that…that I'm trying to replace your mother or anything…"

"Oh no, no," Kurt said, turning off the sink since they'd finished with all of the dinner ware. "No one can replace my mom. No one could ever take her away from me. You aren't a replacement, you're just…a new chapter in my family life, a second mom. I'm very lucky to have you, Mrs. Hudson. My dad is even more so—he hasn't been this happy in a long time." It was the truth: Burt's whole persona seemed to have lightened since he'd started going on more and more dates with Carole. "You two are perfect for each other. It's a shame that Finn can't see that." Kurt regretted how he scornfully spat out Finn's name.

"Are you and Finn all right? You two don't really talk…"

"Someone told him that I liked him," Kurt admitted, "but I don't. It's been kind of uncomfortable, which is understandable, although I wish that he didn't believe them. He's nice, but not really to me."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," Carole said sympathetically. "I can talk to him if-"

"No, no, it's okay. I'm sure he'll get over it soon enough!" Kurt exclaimed with false exuberance. Carole saw right past it.

"Kurt. I really like what I've got going with your father, and I don't want to screw it up. I'm sure you don't want to screw it up, either. Your father loves you so much and if there's anything wrong, he'll do anything to fix it. I'll talk to Finn; he'll come around."

Kurt gave up, and decided it was for the best. He did trust Carole. "Thank you," he said.

"Now, don't take this the wrong way, but you want to tell me why you were out for so long?" She smiled slyly. "I won't tell Burt if you don't want to me," she added, and that sold Kurt.

"I was…helping a friend out," Kurt said vaguely. "He's, um, having some issues, but I think that'll be sorted out."

"Okay, fair enough. Let's go back into the room with the boys; I feel like there's too much wild testosterone in there," she said, and took Kurt's hand. He found it strange that just about an hour before, that same hand had been in a boy's that he used to hate.

* * *

(10:28) _I did it_

(10:29) _thank you._

* * *

A/N: Wow, long chapter in such a short amount of time! I got very emotional while writing it; I've never really written anything on this level before...also some symbolism if you caught it :)

Anyway, let me know what you think...don't expect a new chapter soon, since I have to finish up a research paper and then finals are coming up soon soo yeah...

Also, in exactly a month from now I'll be vacationing in Argentina, so I'll try to write as much as I can, but expect a long hiatus, since I'm going to be there for two weeks. Just letting you know ahead of time! :)


	7. Chapter 7

"I didn't know you were _this_ good at Algebra," Kurt commented as Blaine guided him to the answer of yet another one of his math problems. They were huddled in the corner of the noisy, football player-filled locker room, trying to get a head start on their homework before Cheerios practice. Kurt was lucky that Blaine was so adept at math, and Blaine was lucky that Kurt was decent at history.

"There are still some things you don't know about me, Hummel," Blaine replied playfully, and chewed on the end of his pen as he looked down at a bunch of documents spread in front of him from his APUSH class. "What's the Cuban Embargo again? I think I dozed off in class today. Actually, I did, eugh, I guess I drool while I sleep," he pointed to a wet spot on one of the sheets of paper; Kurt stuck out his tongue.

"Again? That's the third time within the past two weeks. When do you go to sleep? You need to go to bed earlier."

"Late," Blaine muttered, placing the papers in his folder and putting his schoolwork in his bag. "We've got to go now, and we have to hurry too or else Coach is going to get mad."

It was Tuesday, nearly three weeks since Blaine's breakdown, which meant nearly three weeks since he came out to his parents. Evidently, they hadn't taken it so well, since they were still not exactly on speaking terms with him. Blaine said he didn't care, but Kurt could tell it hurt him on the inside. For the most part, though, Blaine felt a lot better-Kurt could even see it in the way he moved and talked. It was as if an invisible burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and that he could finally walk normally.

Kurt supported Blaine the whole time, texting him every so often to check in and saying hello in the hallways occasionally. They started the routine of doing homework together a week ago, and it turned out that Blaine was a very good student who cared about school, something that was surprising to Kurt: he thought Blaine was too busy being an intolerable asshole to put any effort in. They helped one another as best as they could (Kurt felt bad since he wasn't as resourceful, considering that he was two years younger), and learned more about each other in the process. Their friendship (or whatever it was called) just sort of...bloomed. They still hadn't admitted their friendships, but things had changed. Blaine had his moments, however for the most part, he finally started to dismantle his facade completely. Kurt caught him smiling more often, a kind light flickering in his eyes, a wonderful music to the way he laughed, which was still rare. It wasn't that it was a different Blaine, he had simply transformed into a much happier man right before Kurt's very eyes within a matter of weeks.

The days following Blaine's reveal to his parents were hard: the multitude of depressing texts he sent Kurt was alarming, though not too bad in comparison to their talk in the park. He was disappointed that his parents were upset with what they called his "choice", but with Kurt's reassurance, he admitted that he felt a lot better than before. Blaine still didn't have any plans to tell the rest of their friends or the school, and Kurt respected his wishes. Blaine needed to go at his own pace, and so far he was doing fine.

"Are you going to homecoming on Saturday?" Kurt wasn't sure where the question came from; he just felt the need to make small talk. They finally made it outside and were speed-walking towards the football field. He was going, just because Rachel begged him to and bribed him with cupcakes. It was all that everyone was talking about, anyway, and he heard Noah Puckerman contemplate spiking the punch while he was changing near them in the locker room earlier.

"I don't...do dances," Blaine mumbled, and Kurt then realized why it was a stupid question.

"Oh, I take that back, that was so dumb, I'm sorry. Wait, no," Kurt shook his head, "you _should_ go. You're only letting them win if you keep skipping out on these events. This year is your junior prom, too, and then prom, and that's it. You can't let them dominate your life, Blaine. And I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun," Kurt added, desperately searching for another reason why Blaine should go.

Blain sighed. "Kurt...fine. Maybe. I just-"

"HEY! Anderson, Porcelina! Get your rainbow asses over here!" Coach shouted from her megaphone on the other side of the field, where the Cheerios had congregated on the bleachers. The two of them began to sprint, hoping that they'd make it out of practice alive.

After practice, Blaine took Kurt home, as he'd started doing shortly after they made up. Burt was very grateful to Blaine for this arrangement: he seemed to have taken quite a liking to the boy. Kurt had hooked up Blaine's iPod to the stereo and listened to his music, which he was elated to find they had similar tastes. That afternoon, he was scrolling through Blaine's playlists when he found that they were listening to "Kurt's Playlist." His cheeks burned a little in embarrassment and—appreciation? but he decided not to say anything.

"Kurt," Blaine said after he stopped singing under his breath while he braked at a red stop light, "are we friends?"

It was a simple question, yet it still had not been established. Kurt realized that they never really defined their relationship. It stung a little to think that they hadn't ever referred to each other as a "friend."

"Yeah, I guess we are," he said contently, and leaned back on his chair, feeling something finally settle in his heart that he didn't even realize was there.

"Best friends?" He asked softly, startling Kurt.

"That's quite a jump there," he laughed nervously. Just a few weeks prior he hated that boy's guts, but now...

"I can't really say I have a best friend," Blaine replied flatly as he turned onto Kurt's street. A brief, awkward silence followed as this statement struck him as true. It didn't seem like Blaine had any true friends, aside from Sam, who Kurt didn't know, but saw the two of them hang out from time to time. Then again, Sam didn't know Blaine's secret.

"If that's so, I would be honored to be your best friend, Blaine," he finally replied, and watched the corners of Blaine's lips turn up into a smile. Kurt wasn't sure if he considered Blaine one of his best friends, but as long as it made Blaine happy, he was satisfied.

* * *

"Good, good. You're doing a lot better," Blaine commented as Kurt finished up the Nationals routine. They were still going through with the Wednesday practices, since Coach Sue had yet to be satisfied with Kurt's performance. Ever since they got on speaking terms, Kurt improved a tremendous amount. He'd worked very hard before to prove to Blaine that he didn't need him, but it was a lot easier when he had someone who knew what they were doing guiding him rather than his hazy, anger-driven mind. Blaine was a good teacher, telling Kurt exactly what he was doing wrong and what he could do to fix it, but he never touched Kurt, ever. Kurt realized that they hadn't had any physical contact since that day in the park. He understood why, but it was a little unsettling. He trusted Blaine now, since he hadn't shown any romantic interest him since their altercation. He seemed perfectly satisfied with them being friends-best friends.

"Blaine, do you mind if I go to the bathroom for a sec?" _I shouldn't have had so much water.  
_  
"Sure, go ahead. You know what? Once you come back, we'll go home. It's almost time, and you've worked hard enough. Anyway, homecoming's this weekend, and I don't want to wear you-"

"Blaine." Kurt started backing away, letting him know that he had more pressing matters than listening to him drone on.

"Okay, okay, I actually want to get home quickly so I can finish this English paper..." He heard Blaine's voice fade behind him as he entered the boy's locker room.

As he was washing his hands, an idea dawned on him-it became so clear, so obvious to him. He wasn't sure where it came from, but he thought it was a damn good one.

_Why don't I ask Blaine to homecoming?_

He dried his hands and stayed by the sink for a bit to consider what the notion.

_Of course we'd go just as friends, I mean, it's not like that...at least, he doesn't seem to be interested in me anymore, and that's good...I think...anyway, we'd just be friends as we've recently established, and he can combine coming out to the school and getting over his past in one shot. Done._

_It's not as simple as that_, a little voice said in the back of Kurt's mind, but he ignored it. Yesterday he said "maybe", which practically meant yes. He rushed out of the locker room and found Blaine cleaning up the mat. He walked over to help him put it away and sent him a smile. Blaine returned it; there was something about that smile...

"Blaine, can I ask you a question?" Kurt said, eerily echoing Blaine's words from the day before.

"Shoot," Blaine said as he picked up his bag. Kurt copied him, and they both started towards the door.

"Do you, um, would you like to go to homecoming...with me?" He queried, not exactly sure how he wanted to phrase it.

Blaine's mouth fell open. "Wow, Kurt, I just...oh my God," he said breathlessly, and Kurt's cheeks flushed, "I...no. I'm sorry, but I can't-the past is too raw-"

"That's precisely why you need to do it!" Kurt shouted, not sure where his anger was coming from. "You need to get over this and conquer your fear! What better way than to go with me on Saturday, as friends, of course, or best friends, whatever..."

"Jesus, Kurt, I didn't think you were that insensitive," Blaine said, his voice dripping with attitude. He had reverted back to being an asshole in just a matter of seconds—yet not exactly. There was so much hurt in his tone, and it momentarily pierced Kurt. The pain passed, and Kurt continued on.

"Well I'm sorry that it's been three years and you still can't get over it, or yourself," Kurt wasn't even sure of what he was saying. "It's just a stupid dance; nobody is going to care. It's not even like people like you anyway."

Blaine promptly braked at a stop sign, giving Kurt major backlash. "What do you mean, people don't like me?" He seemed concerned; Kurt didn't realize that Blaine could be self-conscious when he seemed so indifferent to everyone around him.

"Oh, I don't know, your head is too far up your ass to see!" Kurt replied acerbically. "The way that you've isolated yourself is by being a dick, so no one likes you. Basically everyone on the Cheerios hates you. You're lucky that I've seen how nice and great you can be, or else I'd be right there with them. If you go to homecoming, then maybe you'll be able to loosen up a bit."

"I go to parties and loosen up there!" Blaine shouted. "What more do you want from me?! I've made moves on guys at parties-"

"But you're trashed when you do so, and no one can really see you because they're focused on getting themselves wasted, and-" _you would drunk-text me about how hot I was when you were there, but he didn't really mean that, he couldn't_ "-whatever. Why do you care what other people think?!"

"You're the one that fucking brought it up!" Blaine yelled. "I mean, I want to generally be liked, doesn't everyone? Still, when people liked me, I got the shit beaten out of me because I got too close to people that didn't really know who I was, so of course I've been avoiding this!"

"Have I beaten the shit out of you yet?" _Even though I've wanted to countless times._

"You're different, Kurt." Paul McCartney's voice floated in the background as Blaine pulled into Kurt's driveway.

"Please, Blaine, you need to do this." Kurt begged. He had a tenacious grip on the idea and refused to let it go.

"I don't have to do anything. Now please, just-just get out of my car," Blaine said adamantly, and Kurt obliged, slamming the car door a little harder than he intended to. Angry tears distorted his vision as he walked to the house, not even turning back to watch Blaine drive away.

Burt was passed out on the couch when Kurt passed through the family room; he turned off the television and lightly tapped Burt on the shoulder, waking him up.

"Dad, I'm home," he said softly, struggling to keep his composure.

"I can see that," Burt commented, and let out a huge yawn. "I'm going straight to bed, all right? I had a long day. Oh, did Blaine leave already? We had a nice chat in the shop today."

"Bl-he was at the shop? Why?"

"He needed to get a tire replaced. He's such a nice boy. He had a lot of good things to say about you."

"You were talking about me?" Kurt said, his voice a little higher than usual. This was the boy he just said had his head stuck up his ass, and didn't even know he'd had a conversation with his father earlier.

"Yeah, he said that you two have grown really close, and that he's needed that recently. Problems at home, I guess. He told me that you've made him a better person, and that he's thankful you're his friend. Is he usually that sentimental?"

Kurt was unable to reply for a few minutes, for he was rendered speechless by this.

"N-no, not really," he stuttered, feeling something sink in his stomach. _I was such a jerk to him just hours after he said this about me. Why couldn't I just leave him alone about homecoming?_

Because you believe in him and know that he deserves better.

"Well, I'm off to bed. G'night, kid."

"'Night, dad,"

He went down to his room and quickly showered, exhaustion slowly creeping over his body. While he was shampooing his hair, he found that he was softly singing the song that had been playing when Blaine dropped him off. It was so familiar…

_Oh. That's what I'll do._

* * *

It was as if their friendship never existed in the first place: Kurt and Blaine regressed from being best friends to total strangers. They did not speak or acknowledge each other's presence-it killed Kurt to walk past him and not even shoot him a glance. All of the words left unsaid cut him like little shards of glass embedded in his skin.

Rachel noticed by the time that gym class rolled around. They were walking around the track, surrounded by yellowing foliage that hinted at the coming fall.

"Hey, what's going on between you and Blaine?" She stepped in front of him and started walking backwards in the innermost lane of the track. Kurt shivered from a frigid gust of wind that confirmed the fact that fall had come.

"What makes you think something's come between us?" He walked a little faster so he was next to her and swiveled his head to make sure that no one, especially not Blaine, was near.

"For the past week I've seen you standing by his locker before science. Today you didn't even look at him."

"Are you stalking us?"

"Nooooo," she said, ducking her head. "What matters is, why aren't you two talking?"

"We kind of...got into a little disagreement last night. It's not really my story to tell." Considering that most of the details were borne from Blaine's past, Kurt did not want to divulge them to her. It was not fair to Blaine. Anyway, he wanted to make things right again. As much as he wished Blaine had listened to him, he missed his friend, and found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stay mad at him. He didn't think it would cause this much pain. Kurt was also worried about Blaine; he'd just lost someone who knew more about him than anyone else, someone who'd been through so much with him in such a short amount of time.

Rachel noticed how detached Kurt was. "Are you going to try to make up with him? I'm guessing that based on the atrocious dark circles under your eyes, you spent a long time thinking about this," She asked, trying to rein him in.

He nodded. "I have a plan that I came up with last night," he said ambiguously, "you'll see. I don't know if it's going to work, but it's worth a shot."

"What do you mean, 'you'll see'; will I get to see it?" She inquired.

"Later," Kurt said quietly as Blaine passed by them. He was alone with his hands deep in his pockets. Even though he couldn't, Kurt wanted to go over and talk to him, or at least say "I'm sorry." But life could never be that simple.

* * *

"So everyone, I thought that maybe-"

"Mr. Schue, if I may," Kurt interrupted, and Mr. Schue nodded. He stepped away with a look of surprise on his face when Kurt climbed down from his seat to the middle of the room. He looked up at the rest of the members staring down at him, including a new member named Mike Chang.

"So, um, I made a huge mistake yesterday and hurt my friend's feelings, a really...amazing friend who's been going through a hard time," Kurt could not look at Blaine; he simply could not, "and I feel really bad about it. We can channel our emotions through song, so if it's okay, can I do a solo today?"

"Go ahead," Mr. Schue answered, "we have time."

Kurt thanked him and walked over to the guitarist, asking him if he knew how to play the song. He did; and Kurt stepped back into the spot as the boy warmed up. Rachel was giving him a look; Kurt knew exactly what she was thinking. He ignored her and cued the guitarist when he was ready, and the boy began to play.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_..."

* * *

_He was singing along when he realized. A peculiar feeling was starting to sweep over his being when it hit him with the next chord change._  
_  
It was as if he was seeing him for the first time. Perhaps it was the way the lights were hitting his face, illuminating his porcelain skin and bringing it to life, or how the azure of his eyes seemed so much more prominent, or the way he'd coiffed his hair in a new way, making him look older-it was the same Kurt, but he was so different. It wasn't just related to Kurt's looks, though. The gracefulness of his step, how he treaded so lightly yet commanded the attention of everyone in the room, the emotions he was portraying even through his voice, that beautiful voice..._

Something ignited within him; it was subtle at first, but soon began to grow into a gripping flame. It flowed through his veins and engulfed his heart, causing it to beat to an unfamiliar, haunting rhythm. It crept into his lungs like a breath of new life: the air never felt fuller or sweeter. It painted his skin with a color that did not even exist, or perhaps was there the whole time but he could never see it.

Oh, there you are.

Kurt's voice consumed him, the whole room, the entire universe; every electron in existence buzzed with his energy. Nothing else held any meaning; rather, Kurt gave everything meaning.

He'd been looking for him forever, yet there Kurt was, standing right before him, singing for him. Kurt had been there the whole time, and yet it took him until he screwed up the second time to realize just how much Kurt meant to him.

How he hated the way he treated Kurt earlier, how he wished that he took the time to appreciate him. The feelings from when he first saw Kurt were manifested again, but much stronger than before, as he finally understood what they were. He was a lysing cell, his entire being bursting with his heightened emotions.

He could not bring himself to sing again, as he did not want to drown out Kurt's voice with his own. He was afraid that the feeling would disappear once the song came to a close; he was afraid that the feeling would remain and amplify when it ended. He hoped for the latter.

* * *

"Thank you, Kurt, that was fantastic!" Mr. Schue said as the clapping ended when Kurt finished the song. "You know, that may qualify for a solo; you never know," he added slyly, and Kurt smiled. He felt loads better than before, although there was still a lingering feeling of doubt as to whether Blaine had accepted his "apology" or not. He glanced at Blaine; he was looking down at his hands, which were sitting in his lap. His body language gave no indication as to what he was feeling. It was better that way for Kurt, as he did not want anything to happen in front of the rest of the Glee club. Rachel grabbed his arm as he sat down next to her.

"Oh my God, that was how you decided to do it?!" She hissed in an accusatory manner as Mr. Schue droned on about how they still needed more people.

"Yeah, and?" Kurt retorted, figuring that she was lashing out in response to Mr. Schue's comment about a solo; she was sensitive to anyone aside from her getting one, even her best friend.

"No, I just-" she stuttered, and then smiled. "I think Blaine liked it, since he was staring at you with this ridiculous look on his face the whole time."

"Define ridiculous." Kurt stole another glance at Blaine, who was looking at Mr. Schue with a dazed expression.

"Kurt, Rachel, do you two have a suggestion for what we can do for our performance next Friday?" Mr. Schue interrupted them.

_Performance?_ "N-no, sorry," Kurt replied, wondering what he was talking about.

"Ugh, come on, we can't recruit people with some crappy 70s song!" Artie groaned.

"Oh," Rachel said under her breath. "Oh, _no_."

"C'mon, everybody loves disco!" Mr. Schue replied, and everyone sighed.

* * *

Blaine continued to avoid Kurt for the next two days; Kurt figured that he still needed more time. By the end of the football game on Friday night, it hurt badly to have Blaine right there yet barely be able to even look at him. He didn't know whether he should say or do something, but felt that the song was more than enough.

Santana had yelled at him for the song. "What were you thinking, Lady?! I don't care if you stole Berry's sweater or whatever you were upset about, but you can't wear your emotions on your uniform-clad sleeve, or display how good you are. You're going to fuck everything up, Hummel! We already failed with Finn, since he was talking about asking Puck to join, and then that Asian kid came, so Coach is going to whip our asses on Monday. Thanks." Kurt simply let her rail on him as he drank his water after the game, which, predictably, they'd lost. Once she was finished, he walked away to Burt's car.

On Saturday afternoon, he was halfway through his moisturizing regimen when his father interrupted him.

"Hey, Kurt, when are you going tonight?" Burt called from upstairs.

"I said I wanted to leave at 7, right?" He shouted back, guessing that his father forgot.

"Okay, well, make sure you're ready a little earlier," Burt said.

"Sure," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes. _Of course I'll be ready in time, I just showered and I'm doing this now, so I should be ready in...two more hours?_

Eventually he was almost completely ready, with the exception of a final decision on which tie to wear. He was satisfied with his hair, his designer dress shirt, slacks, and shoes, but could not choose which tie he should go with. He knew it wouldn't be much use, but he gathered up his extensive collection in his arms and brought them upstairs to consult Burt about an hour before he wanted to leave.

"Hey Dad, which tie should I wear?" He asked as he emerged from his door and entered the family room, looking down at a rainbow of ties splayed across his forearm.

"I hope you have a red one," a soft voice said, and Kurt snapped his head up.

Blaine was standing next to Burt, wearing a nice tux with a red bow tie. His hair was impeccably gelled, his face completely clean-shaven unlike the day before, where there was a hint of stubble scattered across his cheeks. His eyes were bright as he looked at Kurt; his lips were slightly parted and curled back into a small smile.

"Wait, I thought you were just taking Kurt there?" Burt asked, obviously a little confused. Kurt's feet were glued to the floor. He could hardly even comprehend the fact that Blaine was there.

"He told me to man up, so I am. Mr. Hummel, I'm gay, and I'd like to take your son to homecoming as my date, if that's okay with you...and especially with you, Kurt."

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger! Sorry for the choppy writing; this is more of a transition chapter.

I really really REALLY love Blaine's Blackbird moment in the show, so I decided to keep it canon in here because I couldn't bring myself to do it any other way. I hope I did it justice!

Again, I'll be reviewing for finals for the next two weeks so don't expect much...and I got an A on my paper so I'm very happy with that :)

Thank you for the reviews; they really mean a lot! (Sorry that this chapter is utter crap i just felt really bad for not updating for a while...)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I told you I wouldn't update for a while but I felt badly about the cliffhanger so here you go :)

* * *

"_Oh_," Kurt uttered softly, not knowing what else to reply with. There he was in his suit, all ready for homecoming, but for a completely different reason than Kurt had wished for. Kurt didn't anticipate that seeing Blaine dressed like this would take his breath away, either. Blaine was staring at him, a completely new expression on his face; he could hardly begin to describe it. It was filled with wonder and marvel and longing and so many more emotions—to that point Kurt couldn't imagine that it was possible to convey so many intricate feelings through just two irises.

"Excuse me, but what the hell is going on?" Burt broke up their short, shared moment. His cheeks were tinged pink as he glanced back and forth from his son to Blaine.

"I...well...I've recently come out to my parents; Kurt helped me. A lot. It was...hard, but since he made the process so much more endurable for me, I'd like to take Kurt with me to, er, tell everyone else."

Burt sent him an incredulous look. He seemed to be as shocked as Kurt, but again for another reason. "I didn't think—this is—you're not going to use my son as a little, I don't know, show-horse to parade around so you can say 'here, I took the only other gay kid at school with me to show that I'm gay'? My son is a human-"

"Yes, yes, I am well aware of that, Mr. Hummel," Blaine answered, laughing a little. "I just don't want him to be alone in that anymore. He is also far too handsome to not have a date on such a night," Kurt did a double-take, as did Burt, "Kurt was the one to suggest I come out at homecoming, and what better way than this?" He had basically followed through with Kurt's idea, but took it to a whole other level...a level that Kurt was not entirely opposed to…

"I can think of a few—" Burt began to grumble, but was interrupted by Blaine.

"So what do you say?" He interrupted Kurt's thoughts as he turned to him, his heartwarming gaze trained on the freshman. Kurt stood there like a deer frozen in the headlights, not knowing what to say. He tried to weigh the pros and cons, but he couldn't, since there didn't seem to be any cons. He was sure that there were plenty of reasons why he shouldn't go with Blaine, but he couldn't see them, and frankly didn't want to. Perhaps it was the "handsome" comment that pushed him over the edge, but simply the fact that Blaine had come back overwhelmed him.

"I'll go with you, Blaine," he stated after a tense silence, and Blaine's face broke into the most incredible smile that put all of the lights in the room to shame. "As long as it's okay with my dad, I guess," he ducked his head in embarrassment, considering that they were experiencing the much-abused, tired tradition of asking for a father's permission for any excursions. He awaited his father's reply, but it came quickly, much to his surprise.

"You two get together; I need to get my camera," he sighed in defeat, and left the room. Kurt looked up to meet Blaine's excited gaze: he made his way over to the freshman and stood before him. Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt cut him off.

"Don't say you're sorry, because you have no reason to be," he began, knowing that he'd basically read Blaine's mind. "I was too harsh on you, and I'm sorry for being such an ass-hat."

"'Ass-hat?'" Blaine grinned at the insult, "I was thinking more of a bad friend, but I guess I can deal with an ass-hat, as long as it's fashionable," Kurt smacked him lightly, his cheeks coloring. "Seriously, though, thanks. I wasn't sure if I was being really unreasonable, well, not talking to you and the. Asking you for this," he gestured towards their suits and matching ties, since Kurt started to put his red one on, "is out of the blue and out there, considering how I reacted to when you asked me to go with you, but I think you understand why I responded in that way."

"I do now-I was just being really stupid, I don't know what got into me. When I asked you the other day about going you seemed kind of on the fence about it, and I thought that if we kind of went together, having me there to...support you or whatever, you'd be more open to it."

"That's partially it," Blaine winked, and the bright flash of a camera interrupted them. A hand crept around Kurt's waist, sending a silent thrill through his body as Blaine pulled him closer to pose for the camera. "You could've given us some warning, Mr. Hummel, I was probably making some ridiculous face!" He complained, but smiled.

"Candids, Blaine, candids! You should be used to it with cheerleading, right? Now, look over here," Burt said, and the two boys grinned at the camera. Kurt was hardly aware of any of his surroundings aside from the hand resting on his hip, the arm draped across his back, just Blaine as a whole being in such a close proximity to him. He stole a quick glance up at his date, who was looking at the camera with an inexplicable look of absolute joy on his face. A white flash notified Kurt that his father had captured the quick moment. "Eyes over here, kid!"

Thankfully, Burt only took a couple more pictures before he told the boys that they should get going. "Call me if...if anything happens," he added with a hint of worry in his voice as he escorted them outside, and they nodded. Kurt had a nagging feeling that his father was more nervous for Kurt than he was for Blaine.

"Thanks for everything, Mr. Hummel. I'll have him back by 10." Blaine said as he shook hands with Kurt's dad before getting into his car. Burt nodded and retreated to the house, turning at the door to watch them get into the car and leave.

"Are you sure you're okay with me taking you as an actual date?" Blaine queried, breaking the minute-long silence that had fallen in the car after they departed from Kurt's house. Kurt still flinched at the term; it was so new and unfamiliar.

"To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it." he answered truthfully, "I just—we're not…going out, right? You know…" he didn't want to say the word, but let it hang unsaid in the air. Blaine seemed to understand.

"No, not if you don't want to," he answered quickly, a strange tone to his voice. Kurt ignored it and decided to divulge his worries to Blaine.

"Cool…the only thing is, I'm starting to get nervous about how people will react when they see...us. Mostly about how you're taking me, a freshman. How are they going to perceive you?"

"It won't matter when they find out I'm gay. Who else at school is gay, or as attractive as you?" Blaine answered slyly, and Kurt's jaw fell slightly open. _What the hell has gotten into him?_ He remembered the last time Blaine showed romantic interest in him, and that had not gone over so well—that was purely physical, though. This was…different. He was blatantly flirting with him, and Kurt didn't know what to do. "Okay, so here's the plan," Blaine changed the subject, "we walk in, arm-in-arm, and if anyone asks, I say that you're my date, and if they have a problem they can fuck off."

"I don't think they'll like that, Blaine." Kurt answered, feeling a little light-headed at the thought of being arm-in-arm with Blaine. "You don't want to…" He hated himself for bringing the past up, but he had to. The thought of Blaine getting hurt again could very nearly kill him. "No, it won't happen. We won't let them…they can't touch us."

"You may be a little scrawny freshman, but I didn't join Dalton's fight club just for shits and giggles. We can take them on together."

"No, Blaine, I didn't mean that we'd _hit_ them. Anyway, aren't you not supposed to talk about the fight club?"

And it was just like old times, back to their lively banter from the past few weeks.

* * *

"KURT!" Rachel screamed as she attacked him with a huge hug. They were standing in the school gym as others began to arrive. "Hi, Blaine," she addressed the boy next to him as she pulled away from Kurt. "I guess you two made up?"

"More than made up; he's my date tonight," Blaine said proudly, and took Kurt's arm. Rachel's mouth fell open.

"You aren't—wait—Kurt, why didn't you tell me you were going out?" She sputtered angrily, and Kurt blanched.

"No no no, we're not going out, we're just…I'm helping him come out to the school, okay?" Kurt responded quickly. Blaine nodded his head, his expression unreadable.

"Oh, it's about time then!" Rachel said. Just at that moment Mercedes walked past them, and Rachel grabbed her arm. "Mercedes, look at how cute they are!" She stared at Kurt and Blaine, just as surprised as Rachel.

"Is this a joke?" she asked in disbelief. "I was 95% sure that Blaine was straight and had an inability to attract anyone due to his lack of a sociable personality, or rather, any personality at all."

"Nope, I'm 100% gay, and if you're going to treat me like that then I can be like that," Blaine countered, and Mercedes held her hands up in defeat.

"C'mon, Blaine, no need to attack her," Kurt groaned, his mouth feeling like sandpaper as he realized that the last time he drank anything was immediately after the game. "I'm going to get something to drink; do any of you want anything?"

"No, I need to take pictures of you two! You look so cute with your matching tie and bow tie," Rachel ordered as she took out her camera from her clutch. "Yeah, put your heads together, just like that…"

After a second photo shoot with Rachel (she was even worse than his father, since she insisted on taking a large variety of pictures including the four of them), Kurt was finally free to retrieve drinks. He stood at the punch bowl and was about to take some when a hand grabbed his wrist.

"Hey pretty boy, you might want to be careful with this, you might intoxicate you and your precious little boyfriend over there." Santana leaned over and took a whiff of the drink, her nose scrunching up. "Yep, there's definitely an alcoholic stench to that drink, but I don't think it's Puckerman since he hasn't come yet. I wouldn't give any to Gay Warbler over there if I were you, since he likes getting handsy with boys when he's trashed. I, on the other hand, am the opposite." She sent him a malicious grin as she took the ladle and poured herself a cup. Kurt opted for a water bottle, but looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"We're not going out, Santana." He had not forgotten that she started the whole Finn fiasco.

"All right, Lady, whatever you say." She replied nonchalantly and took a sip from her beverage. Kurt took a step towards her, his nostrils flaring in anger.

"If you tell anyone that we're boyfriends I'll tell everyone how you love Brittany." He knew that he struck gold as he watched Santana's snide smile dissipate instantly. He somehow managed to mask his shock that his guess was a fact.

"Who told you, Blaine?" She asked, her voice small.

"No one. I could tell." It was partially true. Kurt noticed how close the two of them were, closer than most girls. He may or may not have overheard some rather personal conversations in the locker room between them as well.

She glared at him for a few seconds. "Fine, Porcelain, we're even. If you utter a word, I will ruin you and everything you love, got it?" Kurt nodded, and she turned and left.

"What's her problem?" Kurt whirled around to find that Blaine had just arrived behind him. He handed him his water wordlessly and shrugged his shoulder. "Whatever, let's go dance!" He took Kurt's hand and dragged him out to the dance floor where an agglutination of students had formed, despite Kurt's many protests that he couldn't dance.

There was something about the combination of Blaine dancing like a madman and the bass vibrating throughout his entire body that let something cut loose within Kurt. He followed Blaine's moves, laughing hysterically as they waved and twirled like idiots. They occasionally bumped into each other, sparks flying at their every touch, but Kurt didn't say a word about it. Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina joined them at some point and they jammed together, sometimes shouting about how they should sing the song playing at Glee club. Eventually, however, a slow song came on, which cued all of the couples to invade the dance floor in place of all of the single people.

"Can we go outside and get some air?" Blaine asked Kurt quietly as they watched boys and girls intertwined and swaying along with the slow beat, and he bobbed his head in agreement.

They walked out of the building and sat at one of the lunch tables next to each other; from what Kurt could tell, they were alone. He was still hot and a little sweaty from being inside, so the cold fall zephyrs were rather comforting. They sat in silence, taking in the beautiful night.

"Blaine?" Kurt said, and finally captured his attention. A soft breeze rustled their clothing and sent a small shiver through the both of them. "Why...me?"

Blaine sent him a questioning look. "What do you mean? We made up; we're friends. You know, you came up with this idea!"

"No," Kurt said; he didn't come up with the whole..._date_-date thing, but that was not what he was referring to, "why me...all this time? Why didn't you give up on me?" Blaine's expression changed from smiling to that same damn look he was wearing when he first saw Kurt in his house hours earlier. It pierced Kurt—it was as if he was unconsciously trying to convey a message to him that he couldn't decipher.

"Kurt," he began softly, letting the harsh syllable release from his tongue so lightly, so tenderly, "I feel like I've always known there was something...different about you. No, I mean, not a bad different, and not like weird different, but different...to me. Earlier, I didn't know how to deal with my feelings. I was so naive, and every day I regret how I treated you. I know I'm echoing that day at the park, but... you made me…softer, and I'm much happier that way. You helped me break down all of the thick walls I built up around myself. Everything's changed for me-especially after Glee yesterday.

"While you were singing Blackbird...it clicked. It's like...you know how it's a known fact that the world is spinning and constantly moving, but you can never feel it? The earth is traveling at such a fast speed...the ground beneath us, rotating on an invisible axis-yet here we are, completely stationary. How can we prove that it's moving? How do we know that it's the earth rotating and not the clouds suspended in the sky, or the stars scattered in the black canvas up there," he looked upwards; Kurt followed suit. "They've done so many experiments to prove this, theories upon theories, and it's accepted as truth. It's something that lingers in your mind, an unconscious whisper that sometimes reminds you, 'holy crap, the ground below you is _moving_,' but it's just a tiny piece of general information that doesn't matter because you can't physically witness it. It's there, but it's not: you question its verity, but let it be." Kurt returned his gaze to Blaine, who he was surprised to find was staring back at him.

"When you were singing yesterday...I could feel the floor underneath me, hell, the entire room just...moving. It became _real_. I can feel us moving right now." He places his hand on Kurt's, which was sitting in reach on the bench. Kurt suppressed a surprised scream, swallowing it as it traveled up his throat. Blaine's hand was gentle and warm, barely there and completely present at the same time. It fit perfectly with Kurt's, his palm caressing the hard bones and knuckles sheathed by milky skin. "Can you feel it, this bench, your feet on the ground, your body traveling so quickly?"

Kurt was touched by his speech, considering that his song made him feel this way, but didn't quite understand the point of it. He was rambling on about science-related things, which he did not really care for. "No..." He answered truthfully, even though he could feel Blaine's pulse thumping against his skin at a very fast pace.

Blaine let out a small laugh, and then changed his expression to that unfathomable stare, his eyes locked on Kurt's again. "Interesting...I feel this way because...because I realize _you_ make the world turn-at least for me. You move me, Kurt." A beat. Kurt could feel his heart hammering in his throat, a pleasant humming in his head, as he watched Blaine near him. "I just...I've been looking for you forever, and the moment finally came. The moment when I realized you're _here_. You've always been here..."

Blaine let his voice trail off as his blazing gaze tore from Kurt's eyes to his lips. Kurt sat as still as a statue, watching Blaine with wide eyes as he leaned in, closer and closer. Time turned to molasses as he felt Blaine's warm breath sigh against his lips, his head turning to the side as his eyes fluttered shut, long black eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. He could not believe what was taking place, but took no action to resist, because he wanted this. He felt his own eyes close as something unfamiliar hesitantly brushed against his lips.

The gentle contact instantaneously gave way into a fervent collision; Kurt felt his lips become consumed with Blaine's lustful, Chapstick-covered ones, and God, they were delicious. His brain momentarily short-circuited as Blaine kissed him. It seemed as if he was trying to translate all of his passion into that one touch of their mouths. When Kurt's mind began to work again after a few blissful seconds, he realized that his hand had unconsciously found Blaine's cheek, caressing it and urging him to kiss him harder. He also realized that he was kissing him back, his mouth working furiously against Blaine's. His mouth fell open at the revelation, and Blaine took it as an invitation to slowly introduce his tongue. Kurt wasn't sure what it was, whether it was from reading and watching too many Nicholas Sparks movies or just instinct, but his body responded so enthusiastically that little fireworks exploded behind his shut eyelids.

As the world around him began to spin from lack of air, Blaine finally ended the kiss with an audible _smack_, staring up at Kurt with heavily-lidded eyes. Kurt's body was completely numb; a strange contrast to while Blaine was kissing him when his nerves were hypersensitive. His hand hit the table hard as it left Blaine's smooth cheek. Blaine turned away and brought his hand to his mouth, obviously trying to hide a smile.

"Are…are you okay?" he asked after a few moments while Kurt tried to gain his bearings.

"I…I don't know. Can we—I think we need to do that again so I can figure my feelings out." He had no idea where the response came from; his hormone-addled brain somehow thought it up in his bewildered state.

Blaine responded with so much enthusiasm that Kurt nearly fell over: he had to grip the table with his hand. Their noses clashed as their mouths hungrily attacked each other, hot and wet in the cool, arid night. Fingers threaded through the back of Kurt's parted hair, pushing Kurt's face closer to Blaine's.

"Kurt, Blaine?" They broke apart quickly at the sound of Tina's voice. Kurt fixed his mussed hair and stood up when Tina came into view; his knees nearly buckled from the aftermath of his latest interaction with Blaine. "They're going to announce homecoming court now," she called out from the stairs. She obviously had not seen anything—Kurt let out a sigh of relief. Blaine grunted as he got up.

"I'm not done with you," he whispered as they returned to the gym.

* * *

It was just twenty to ten, and Kurt was sitting down in a chair, feeling exhausted. Quinn had unsurprisingly won homecoming queen, with Finn as her king. He danced again with the others, a new beat drumming in his chest that stuttered every time his eyes met Blaine's. There was an unspoken bond between them; Kurt had no idea if the others noticed. All he knew was that his gaze fell on Blaine's lips an unhealthy amount. He couldn't stop replaying their velvety feel on his own.

Another slow song came on, and a shadow overcame Kurt. Blaine stood in front of him, a hand outstretched. "I know you're tired, but do you think you can handle one last dance with me?"

Without a thought, Kurt nodded and took his hand; they stuck together like magnets. He felt as if he was floating as they walked into the crowd holding hands. They stood amongst indiscernible couples, the 3/4 beat leading their heartbeats. Blaine took a hold of Kurt's thin waist as Kurt hesitantly placed his hands on Blaine's broad shoulders. As they grew accustomed to this contact, they began to move along with the song; Blaine's hands felt so natural at his hips, and Kurt found that it was more comfortable to wrap his arms around Blaine's neck, letting his hands rest between his shoulder blades. He was lucky that Blaine was just a little taller than him.

"Are you glad you went?" Kurt asked, feeling the need to break the silence. Blaine's hands squeezed his hips in response.

"More than glad. I did a little more than come out, didn't I?" He grinned and swooped down to peck Kurt's cheek. Embarrassed yet flattered, Kurt ducked his head so Blaine couldn't see his flushed cheeks.

"No one really seemed to notice, though," Kurt mumbled, realizing that their plan basically failed as only members of the Glee club commented on it. A few fingers found Kurt's chin and lifted it so he was looking into Blaine's eyes.

"Do you want them to? Through…through us?" Blaine inquired, his hand creeping up to stroke Kurt's cheek with his thumb.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, feeling as if he already knew the answer.

"Oh God, I'm the worst at this, aren't I?" Blaine grinned, "I mean that I want to walk down the halls of this school with you, holding hands." His free hand reached behind his back to grab one of Kurt's and brought it between their chests. "I want to kiss you goodbye before we go to our classes." The hand on his cheek moved to graze Kurt's lips, smiling as he probably remembered how they felt on his. "I want to take you out to Breadstix and have un-spiked beverages, unlike here." The tension broke for a second, but then returned as Blaine beseeched Kurt with his eyes. "What I'm trying to say is, I want to be able to call you my boyfriend, Kurt. I've never done this before, and I don't want to screw this up."

"I've never done this either, but I think we won't be able to say that anymore," Kurt answered, and Blaine sighed in response.

"You always know exactly what to say." Blaine's hands were back on his hips; Kurt's cheek was pressing into his chest. He looked up at the clock on the wall opposite of them and felt reality begin to set in again.

"You're not going to like what I have to say now, because we have to go if you don't want to piss off my father." Blaine groaned and pushed them apart. The song ended on cue, and everyone began to disperse. Kurt led him towards the door and they exited the building, saying a quick goodbye to Glee members as they left. They headed towards Blaine's car, a brisk breeze urging them forward.

"Is it okay if we keep this…private?" Kurt asked as they began to drive away from the school. Blaine stole a quick glance towards Kurt, a questioning look on his face.

"Why? I thought you were okay with this, and people need to find out somehow," Blaine said, hurt evident in his voice.

"I am, I am, and I understand, but…people will find out somehow, and I don't think Coach will like it too much. Don't think that I'm just coming up with excuses," he clarified, "but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't take too kindly to her captain dating another member on the squad. You know her better than I do."

"You're right, actually; last year this guy tried to join the Cheerios with the obvious motive to get together with this girl and Coach found out—she told him that unless he cut off his balls he couldn't join the team. I don't want to lose—yeah, I think we should wait…at least until the football season is over. God, that's such a long time, and right after that is basketball season, so it never really ends." Blaine griped. "We'll just have to go to the Lima Bean incognito tomorrow, I guess."

"Is that your way of asking me out?" Kurt asked as he turned onto his street.

"I really need to work on this, don't I?" Blaine replied.

"No, it's kind of cute," Kurt confessed before thinking, and felt his cheeks warm as he watched Blaine's smile widen. He pulled into Kurt's driveway and parked the car. "So, what time?"

"I'll let you know when I walk you up to the door," Blaine responded as he got out of the car, surprising Kurt. He walked over and opened the passenger side for Kurt, finally able to hear his many protests.

"My dad is either going to be passed out on the couch or he's peering through the windows right now; I don't want to risk it!" He objected, but let Blaine pull him up from his seat.

"Loosen up, Hummel," Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt on the mouth with such intensity that it made his head spin. "There, your dad couldn't see that; I was planning to do that at your doorstep like some typical romance movie, but that'll have to do." Kurt smiled up at him, still a little dazed as they meandered over to the door.

"One o'clock, is that okay?" Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear as he pulled him into a hug.

"Sounds like a plan," Kurt answered, and let go, waving his fingers at Blaine's retreating figure as he opened the door and entered. He felt a little regret in his stomach when he saw that Burt was nowhere to be found, and stayed by the window to watch Blaine's Pathfinder drive away, something ballooning in his heart. He stayed there for a moment, trying to drink in the fact that that was his _boyfriend_ that just kissed him—three times that night, as a matter of fact. After what felt like a long time, Kurt decided it was time for the incredible night to end and go to sleep.

Upon further inspection, he discovered that as he suspected, Burt was asleep on the couch.

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think! I know, lots of fluff this chapter, but I love writing it :)

To be honest, I've never gone to homecoming, since my freshman year I was sick and this past year I was recovering from surgery...hopefully I won't have such bad luck next year!


	9. Chapter 9

"Tell me why you're getting coffee with Blaine again?" Burt asked as he parked in front of the Lima Bean. Kurt hoped that his expression was passive enough so he wouldn't give anything away, but the heat in his cheeks was not as easy to hide.

"Just discussing stuff about the Cheerios, that's all," he answered slowly, thinking that if he said it too quickly his father would become suspicious. Thankfully enough, it seemed to satisfy him...almost. As Kurt was getting out of the car, Burt called him back over.

"You never told me how it went last night. You two had a good time?" He inquired. Damn it, Kurt cursed internally. He couldn't avoid it any longer.

"Yes, Dad, of course," Kurt rolled his eyes, "now I've got to go in there and meet my bo-my friend, who's probably wondering where I am." Kurt's phone buzzed in his pocket the moment he almost slipped. He said goodbye and swiftly departed from the car, the bells on the door jingling as he entered the cafe.

Last night, Kurt had a very difficult time sleeping, partially due to the fact that he'd made the stupid mistake of having some chocolate to try to calm his nerves, since he always ate chocolate when change came. While the caffeine was rather stimulating, the main thing that kept Kurt wide awake for a few hours was the constant replaying of Blaine's kisses in his mind. He felt as if he had become an alcoholic just after a few tastes of those damn addictive lips. His memory of their touch was beginning to fade; all Kurt knew was that his body yearned for more.

While this took up the majority of his night, Kurt also considered the status of their relationship. He wasn't sure if he was upset that they couldn't go public, or relieved. There was a scary intimidation that he associated with things like holding hands in the hallways, but also a curious fascination.

There was no way they could do so, though, not without risking Coach Sue finding out. The absolute last thing he wanted to happen was have her find out that they had any kind of romantic affiliation. He knew that she'd target him, not Blaine. Blaine was obviously her favorite, since she rarely ever raised her voice at him. She would blame Kurt for distracting Blaine or come up with some sort of bullshit just so she can make a show of kicking him off the team.

He wondered how the rest of the school would react if they didn't veil their relationship. An ominous feeling bubbled in his core as he lingered on the thought, and decided to push it to the back of his mind. He sensed that they wouldn't take to kindly to it.

How would Santana and Brittany react? From what he learned the night before, they was definitely something going on between them. Santana would never admit to doing such a thing, since she had a reputation to uphold as the school slut, as did Brittany. For the first and perhaps only time in his life, Kurt felt bad for Santana. She was such an insufferable bitch, but he could see why-she had to hide herself, just as Blaine had.

He hoped that his hidden relationship with Blaine wouldn't turn them to be as bitter as her.

"Kurt!" Blaine waved his hand as Kurt found him standing near the front. "Did you get my text?"

_Crap_. "I did, but I couldn't see it, since my dad was asking me about last night. That's why I'm late."

Blaine looked at his watch. "Kurt, it's five minutes after one. And I think it's better that you don't look at it..." He ducked his head a little, color tinging his cheeks.

"Now I'm going to have to look at it," Kurt teased, something stirring in his chest at the fact that Blaine was embarrassed. Blaine groaned and took Kurt's arm, dragging him to the counter so they could get their coffees.

They found a cozy corner towards the back of the Lima Bean after they bought their drinks (a medium drip and a grande non-fat mocha, Blaine's treat despite Kurt's pleas) with a table for two and took their seats.

"So," Blaine began as he leaned back in his chair, "anything happen since I last saw you last night?"

"Not really. I got up really late today, and then remembered we had this...date," he let the unfamiliar word roll off of his tongue, "my dad wasn't too happy with the fact that I told him last-minute to drive me."

"Did you tell him why you were meeting me? He already kind of knows that I like you, I guess," Blaine smiled.

"Nah, you were cryptic enough about it yesterday. I told him this was for cheerleading. I don't think I'm ready to tell him, or that he's ready to know that I have a...boyfriend. Wow, I just came out this summer and I already have a boyfriend," he said under his breath in disbelief. Blaine stretched his hand out and took Kurt's, which was sitting by his coffee. His thumb traced little circles around Kurt's knuckles, sending aberrant tingles through his nerves.

"You can't imagine how I feel, then," he replied, "and you can tell him when you're ready. I don't even want to think about how my parents would react." His face fell slightly, and the only thing Kurt could think of doing was giving Blaine's hand a tiny, reassuring squeeze. To Kurt's surprise, it worked, as Blaine's face brightened immediately.

"Let's talk about other things," his voice grew more chipper to match his growing smile, "like how we're going to work this whole thing out. When can we see each other?"

"Well...you can always come over to my house, although Friday nights are off-limits." Kurt said deadpanned, and Blaine cocked his head. "My dad insists on having family dinner together on Fridays, although I should be able to bring my boyfriend and Finn should be able to bring Quinn, only my dad is able to bring Carole home."

"Carole?" He asked. "Is your dad...?" Kurt realized that he hadn't told Blaine.

"No...my mom passed away when I was eight. Carole, Finn's mom, is my dad's girlfriend."

"I don't know how you want me to say to that."

That was a different response than what Kurt expected. "What?" Kurt asked, not understanding what Blaine meant.

"Sorry, I know it sounded bad. It's just that sometimes people want condolences for something like that, where a loved one died a long time ago, or they're adamant about you not saying anything at all. I can't figure it out for you, and I don't want to offend you by saying which side I'm leaning towards."

"All right, tell me what you think," Kurt ordered, and Blaine grinned.

"Now you've made it easy. You're the latter. I guess I should've known, since your dad is kind of like that. When he told me-this was that day at the shop-I sputtered a bunch of 'I'm sorrys' and he just waved them away. Although there may have been a tear or two in his eyes when he told me you're a lot like her."

"Wait, you already knew?" He was simultaneously touched and irritated by his father's compliment, since his mother was the kindest woman he'd ever known, but he was upset that his dad told Blaine before him.

"I didn't know about your dad's girlfriend, that was all. Okay, okay, let's change the subject from sad stuff. I can go over to your house, you can come over to mine. My parents usually work late, so we can have the house to ourselves..." Heat rose up to Kurt's neck, face, and ears at the many hidden implications of the statement; Blaine seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with what he said as well, as he withdrew his hand from Kurt's and drank his medium drip. A strangled "oh" was all Kurt could manage.

"I mean, ah, crap," Blaine recovered after the momentary silence, "I don't-I didn't mean to say it that way, and that's not what I meant...fuck, we do have to discuss...that at one point."

"What did you really mean?" Kurt queried, skirting the subject that he did not want to talk about. Kissing was nice, but the thought of doing anything else brought about negative memories of Blaine that he'd rather not recall.

"I meant that we can do stuff without my parents being there to breathe down our necks or potentially kick us out because they're still not happy about everything. And by stuff I mean like...talking, doing homework together, watching movies..."

"Aside from the whole homework thing, which sounds really boring, that sounds amazing." Kurt said genuinely. "Also, we have Wednesday nights, since Coach doesn't seem like she wants those to end."

"We can continue them if you want, but I think you're perfectly fine, to be honest...she just likes intimidating you. She also thinks that we hate each other."

"She couldn't be more wrong." Kurt grinned into his next sip of his drink.

"God, you don't know how much I want to kiss you right now," Blaine groaned, and something fluttered in Kurt's stomach. Aren't you done with that? Kurt asked himself, but knew the answer was still and would forever remain as no.

"I just..." Blaine leaned over the table, beckoning Kurt to come nearer so he could whisper. "I don't want to rush anything. Kissing you even seemed a little too fast. I don't regret it at all, though," his lips were so close to Kurt's ear, "but I want to take things slowly. Based on...earlier events...as I said before, we'll discuss them when the time is right, I can understand if you don't want to do...physicality. I really don't want to mess this up. Before, I just thought you were hot," Kurt bit his tongue to try to hold in his laughter-hot was the absolute last adjective he'd use to describe his appearance, "but once I got to know you, I realized how beautiful you are inside and out. God, I was such an idiot for wanting to jump the gun; how can you even look at me?" Blaine pulled away.

"Maybe because you're the one who's hot," Kurt slipped before he realized what he was saying, and looked up into Blaine's shocked eyes.

"I don't know what is keeping me from kissing you right now. I go through this whole speech, and you say just a couple of words and I'm broken with all of my pieces scattered on the floor."

"You're too eloquent for me to fall apart. I'm in more of a state of shock when I listen to you."

"Oh, Kurt, this is absolutely ridiculous. Here I go again," Blaine remarked, and brought his coffee to his lips. There was a long pause as they looked at each other, simply taking in each other's presence.

"Text your dad and tell him I'll have you home by 5 the latest." Blaine unexpectedly jumped up out of his seat, startling Kurt.

"What? Why?!" He took his phone out of his pocket anyway, unsure of where Blaine was going with this.

"There's something I want to show you. Come on!" He took Kurt by the arm and quickly led him towards the back entrance; Kurt threw out their empty cups while he let Blaine drag him along.

"Blaine, please, are you kidnapping me?" Kurt asked as Blaine gestured that he take the passenger seat.

"Just text your dad. I think you'll like this." Blaine briefly departed from him and then reappeared at his side, turning on the engine. Kurt sighed in defeat and took out his cell.

"That was quick," Kurt commented a few minutes later, snapping his head up after checking the confirmation text from his dad. They were at an old soccer field tucked in a local neighborhood, hidden by a fence of trees. Kurt remembered a distant memory of Burt and his mother flying kites here when he was very young, maybe three or four. "Why are we here? I don't do soccer, or any other sports aside from cheer."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Kurt," Blaine responded as he opened the doors to the car, "just wait a little bit; I'll tell you eventually." He made a hand gesture for Kurt to stay while he got out of the car, walking towards the back. Kurt heard Blaine open the trunk.

"I hope there isn't a body in there," he called out of the open window, and Blaine laughed.

"We're not on an episode of _Hannibal_; relax," Blaine responded, and suddenly appeared at Kurt's side with something in his arms. He beckoned Kurt to follow him with the nod of his head. Confused, Kurt got out of the car and ran after Blaine.

They walked out into the patchy field, the goals looking rather sad with their rusted posts and tattered nets. Blaine opted for the highest-quality area of grass by the kick-off spot in the middle of the pitch and laid the mysterious object in his hands down on it. It turned out to be an outdoor blanket, large enough to fit the two of them rather comfortably.

"I figured that we could just look at the clouds or whatever and talk, but that seems kind of corny and lame now that I can physically see it," Blaine said sheepishly. "It seemed like such a good idea in my head."

"No, no, this is fine." Kurt sat himself down on the polyester fabric, letting his upper body fall so he was looking up at the sky. Blaine followed suit, his hand brushing Kurt's as he settled himself on the blanket. He was very, very close; Kurt could smell his cologne even over the pungent, inexplicable scent of autumn in the air. It smelled like...Blaine.

"So, what did you plan on talking about?" Kurt queried, watching as a small cloud momentarily covered the sun. Blaine took his time to answer.

"Actually, I didn't think we'd do that much talking," he answered, and Kurt turned his head to face him. Blaine's red face was only inches away; he seemed to be as embarrassed as Kurt. He wasn't sure how it got so intimidating all of a sudden, the idea of kissing Blaine. He'd done it just yesterday. It's because we're alone-completely alone, he figured after a few more grueling moments of silence.

"I think-I think we should talk. Not that I don't want to-" of course Kurt wanted to kiss him- "but maybe...maybe we can talk about...that. God, this is our first official day as boyfriends and we're already discussing this." He groaned, and Blaine moved his hand to cover Kurt's.

"Considering that I have a history of being handsy with you, I understand. Why don't we do a Q and A about it...you can ask me anything."

"Define 'anything.'"

"Well, you can ask me stuff in general, I don't really care, but since we're setting the grounds of our relationship, I think we should stick to those sort of questions." Blaine sent him a shy grin, and Kurt returned it.

"I don't even know what to ask," He replied nervously, "can I start with a simple one and work my way over to...that?"

"Yeah, but I should be able to ask questions too! We'll alternate, okay?"

"Sure, but I go first. Um...morning or night person?" It was the first question to pop up into his head.

"Me? Hm, I thought you'd go with something like 'what's your favorite color'...anyway, you'd be surprised to know that I'm a morning person. I wake up really early to do my hair and I don't have a problem with it-"

"You need all that time to cement your hair down?" Kurt interjected, and Blaine shook his head.

"Hummel, that's two questions, so I get to ask you two. But yes, my hair is pretty wild when it's untamed in the morning. I can practically hear you asking me if you can see it!" Blaine added as Kurt stared at him, thinking the same exact thing. "The answer is no, absolutely not, and now that's three questions."

"But I didn't say anything!" Kurt protested.

"Too bad. All right, let's see...do you like being on the Cheerios?"

"Are you asking-ah, crap, I'm so bad at this. Um, I guess I do, but not as much as glee. Although I'm not sure what's going on with the plan to destroy it; you've been kind of quiet about that." He turned his question into a comment and looked to Blaine for an answer.

"Okay, that's kind of a question but not really, and I guess I should give you a freebie and answer it. I see how much you like glee, and to be honest...I kind of like it. I can't say I like it better than the Cheerios, because I do love cheer, but Glee is music, and I love music. I guess we're going to have to hold a meeting with the others because, unfortunately, Coach will kill us if we don't follow through. She's already mad that we've barely done anything. I have heard Santana say that she's up to something, though...okay, next question. Have you ever been kissed? I mean, besides yesterday," he laughed a little along with Kurt.

"I think I was 5 or 6 when this girl came over and just kissed me out of nowhere while we were on the playground at school, and then ran away. She wasn't even in my class, either; I think her name was Mary or something. Aside from that, though...never, up until yesterday." He blushed.

"That's okay. I'm glad. I'm going to have to hunt down that Mary girl, though." They laughed, and Blaine's face soon fell. "Okay, I'm sorry if this question will make you...uncomfortable, but I have to...sex."

"That's not a question." Kurt felt a strangle tingling on the back of his neck and...other places.

Blaine lifted himself up onto his elbows and looked around before responding to Kurt's statement. "Just checking that we're still alone," he said as he returned, moving a little closer to Kurt, "I don't want anyone to hear this and be scarred for life, especially little kids...But I know, I just want to know if it's okay that I ask you about it."

"Yeah, but..."

"But what? You don't know much about it, do you?" Blaine asked quietly.

"Well, when a woman and a man love each other very much, they-"

"No, not a woman and a man, a man and a man." Blaine cut him off, but still kept the smirk on his face from Kurt's sass.

Kurt hesitated. "Well…no, not really. I mean, I've tried watching…those movies, you know, right after I came out to see what I was getting myself into…but their poor mothers; I couldn't take it. And…"

"And what?" Blaine implored, his eyes still wide from Kurt's admission to watching porn, and Kurt sighed in defeat.

"It seemed…unsanitary. I like romance, and just the touch of the fingertips. The little that I saw seemed so…animalistic. Have you ever…?" Kurt asked,

"Of course I've watched porn," Kurt's heart stuttered at the word, even though he had a feeling that Blaine watched it, "I went and found everything out on my own. I can see where you're coming from, but...Kurt, have you ever even _touched_ yourself before?"

"That's an extremely personal question," Kurt answered, instantly putting his guard up. To tell the truth...he never had. He'd obviously gotten boners before, but he'd never "taken care" of them. It was, for whatever reason, completely embarrassing for him: he'd just imagine something else to cool him down, like a football game or a Victoria's Secret advertisement. There were times, especially like that night after he met Blaine, that he'd considered it, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but…is that a yes or no?" Blaine pressed on softly. He was not touching Kurt anymore, but he was staring deeply into his eyes, begging for an answer.

"I elect to pass. You're already over the question limit." Blaine groaned. Kurt wasn't exactly sure why he was so adamant in avoiding the subject; it was probably because he was mortified in discussing the subject of sex. "Okay...have you ever...done stuff with anyone? Santana mentioned something about you being hands-on at parties-"

"Oh, I am going to murder her," Blaine hissed savagely, "no. Maybe once or twice, but with people I don't know who came onto me. Ah, shit, that sounds wrong, you know what I mean. We never got any farther than making out, okay?" He finally added. "I don't really have any experience. That's kind of expected since I just outed myself...whatever. Let me think of another question...oh, here we go-what do you want to do about your lack of knowledge?"

"What do you have in mind?" Kurt countered, thinking that Blaine himself probably wanted to teach him...and not through talking.

"Aw, c'mon, you can't answer with a question! Fine: to be honest, I wanted to talk to your dad about that. About him talking to you. Yes, I mean _that_ Talk." He added, a sly grin on his face as Kurt quickly shook his head in disagreement.

"Oh, God, this is hard enough for me right now and you want me to talk to my dad!?" Kurt shouted, and Blaine grabbed his hand to try to calm him down.

"Shh, relax, Kurt. You know this was going to happen at some point, and knowing your dad, he isn't going to like it either. Also...I don't want to do anything with you until you're properly educated. That sounds so lame, but it's true. I made the mistake of pressuring you before, and I don't want to do it again. I just feel it's unfair to you that you don't know that much and I do. Your dad has a right to know as well, since I'm pretty sure he doesn't know a thing about the works of our sort of physicality. My turn for a question, and I'm going to steer away from sex now, since I can tell it's overwhelming you. Don't give me that look, Hummel! Okay, what did you think when you first saw me?"

_With that kind of question, we're still on the topic of sex_. "Wait, you owe me, like, two questions!" He it off Blaine's many protests with a light slap on his wrist. "Favorite season; go."

Blaine groaned. "There's a reason why you are avoiding my question, and I'm going to find out. My favorite season is probably spring. Not too hot, not too cold, and everything seems new. It's great weather to perform in. I don't know, there's just this beautiful appeal to spring...and of course, cheer Nationals. Okay, next question, and then you have to answer mine."

"Fine, then, I want to know what you thought about me the first time you saw me. My answer is...embarrassing, definitely a lot worse than yours." He can't ever know what happened that night, but perhaps what I thought throughout the day...

"You want a completely honest answer?" Blaine asked, and Kurt have him a quick nod. "I wanted to do this," he leaned in and brushed his lips against Kurt's, sending a quick burst of electricity throughout his body. Blaine instantly pulled away, grinning at Kurt's shocked expression. "Well, somewhat; I knew there was something different about you. Something that, y'know, made me...this sounds so corny, I'm sorry...feel things I'd never really felt before. It's weird. I got scared, though, of what I was feeling. That's why I was such a dick to you afterwards. I didn't want my secret to get out, and simply your presence jeopardized that. Now-"

"Wait, wait, wait, just answer this one question, and then I'll do two. I almost forgot about this: you and Brittany that day in front of my locker. What the hell was that?"

Blaine's face deepened a few shades in what seemed like an impossibly short amount of time. "This is so embarrassing, I'm sorry. Okay, so I liked you, as I said before, and I kind of disliked you at the same time because you blatantly did not reciprocate my feelings. I wanted...to make you jealous, really, that was basically my intention. I knew where your locker was, and I just asked Brittany if she was up for an impromptu make-out session. I also kind of needed to get my...frustrations out. That's kind of hard when you're kissing a girl, though," he scrunched up his nose a little, which Kurt had noticed that he did it pretty often and found it adorable.

"I also kind of wanted to strangle you then, and maybe sort of wanted to take Brittany's place. Yeah, though, I kind of felt the same way about you, except the things I was feeling were perhaps not as...clean as yours," Kurt did not even try to meet Blaine's eyes, for he knew he couldn't. "Then you kind of became a douchebag so I strongly disliked you. No, I'm not using a euphemism to soften the blow, it's just that I was still somewhat...attracted to you. I don't know, it's dumb."

"It's not dumb. I was dumb. Everything was dumb. Let's end this Q and A. We can talk about stuff later, but not at school, since we can't risk being overheard. Or being seen doing this," he cupped Kurt's face with his hands and swooped down to kiss him once again.

"One more question," Kurt said breathlessly when they broke apart after a few long moments, "am I a good kisser?"

"I don't know, I think I have to test your ability a few more times," Blaine replied mischievously, and brought Kurt's face towards his once again.

* * *

"You okay, Kurt? You look a little flustered," Burt asked about an hour later. Kurt had just entered the house after Blaine dropped him off, not without a hug and a kiss goodbye.

"I'm fine, just dandy," Kurt practically sang as he took off his shoes and headed towards his room.

"Kurt, no one says 'dandy.' How was your coffee with Blaine? What else did you two do; it doesn't take that long to just have a drink."

"Not much; we went to a park and talked." _About a lot of stuff that maybe you wouldn't like. And during the last hour, we didn't do that much talking at all. _"I'm going to his house on Saturday if that's okay." Blaine had invited him over since his parents were going to a funeral for most of the day; they were going to watch a movie. _"It's a surprise."_

"That's fine, I guess, as long as you're back by six because we're going to dinner with the Hudsons again."

"Come on, Dad, we're seeing them on Friday as well, can't I skip out this one time?" They'd been out with the Hudsons at least once a week for a month now, and Kurt hadn't missed it once. "Sometimes Finn goes out with Quinn instead; this isn't any different." _Oh, the irony._

Burt considered his pitch. "Fine. Then you're going to be in for a surprise when you get back."

"Wait, what?" Kurt shouted. "Tell me!"

"You're just going to have to wait," Burt called back from the closet, where he was getting his coat. "Someone needs an emergency favor at the shop, so I'll be out for a bit. If it gets to be too late, there's some stuff in the fridge. See you."

"Thanks for frustrating me. Bye." Kurt plopped himself onto the couch in front of the television and turned on the television. He was flipping through the channels when he stopped at ABC Family, which was playing a movie. He suddenly had a thought and reached for his phone.

"Are we going to watch _The Notebook_?"

"Kurt, I literally just saw you. And no, we aren't. Why?"

"It's on right now, and I was just wondering."

"Oh. Is that the reason why you called?"

"I guess. And maybe…maybe I miss you a little bit." He answered truthfully, and heard a distant laugh from the speakers.

"You are too cute. I did want to talk to you, though. I am kind of nervous for tomorrow."

"Why? No one knows about us." Yet. Kurt figured that after the call he'd tell Rachel, since he couldn't keep it hidden any longer. Well, he wasn't going to tell her until she swore on all of her Barbara Streisand paraphernalia that she would keep it a secret.

"Yeah, but…I was wondering if I could at least tell people that I have a boyfriend, because then they'd at least they'd know that…no, I'm not going to say it, that is so inappropriate."

"Say it or else I won't come over on Saturday."

"Not fair. Okay, they'd know that I like dick."

"They might take it that you like Dick, as in Richard," Kurt pointed out, and Blaine laughed again.

"I guess that could kind of work too, but I don't like Richard, I like you." He said quietly. Kurt smiled despite the fact that Blaine couldn't see him.

"I'm not surprised you told me that, since I do recall your reply when I called you a dick." Even though he knew Burt was gone, he still looked around to make sure he was alone.

"Ugh, please don't bring that up," Blaine grumbled. "Do you think that could work, though? Telling people that I have a boyfriend?"

"I guess, but you can't just run to the top of the stairs outside and be like 'hey everyone, I'm taken!' because that's crazy-obnoxious and-"

"No, don't worry, I'll figure out something. I already have something planned out, actually, but I'm not going to tell you."

"Damn it! No one is telling me anything." Kurt sighed, and Blaine immediately tried to solace him.

"If it's any consolation, I can tell you that I had a really nice time with you today…or rather, this entire weekend. It was probably the best weekend of my life, actually."

Kurt was rendered speechless for a second, then realized that he was being stupid. "That was kind of expected, but thanks, I guess," he replied. "Well, I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure. I'd say that I hate to see you go, but one, we've spent most of the day together, and two, I can't see you."

"Oh, Blaine. Okay, bye," Kurt said somewhat reluctantly, and hung up, hearing Blaine heave out a happy sigh on the other end before the line was cut off. As much as he wanted to keep talking with him, he figured that it was time.

After he checked the text from Blaine asking where he was at the Lima Bean ("Are you on your way here? I miss you and need you here (and my coffee"), he pulled up a contact on his phone and dialed the number.

"Hey, Rachel, can you talk? I've got something to tell you, but I need you to go into your room, try to sound proof it as much as you can, and take out everything you have related to Barbara Streisand…"

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I did pretty well on my final exams, and then I got writer's block so this is the result of stress and an inability to write.

The next chapter won't be out until longer, since I'm leaving for Argentina tomorrow, so hold tight for another two weeks at the very least.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm back! I had a lovely time, and actually got a lot of writing done. I hope 8,200 words is enough to make up for the hiatus!

Also, to those who have been patiently awaiting the smut...the wait is over ;)

* * *

Kurt and Rachel were walking to gym after a rather difficult science lesson squished into a half-day schedule (they had a half-day for teacher curriculum, or something along those lines as far as Kurt was concerned): Rachel had not been able to make any remarks about his newly changed relationship status, for she was too busy taking notes on carbohydrates. Right after the bell rang, however, Kurt knew he was doomed. She grabbed his arm and led him out of the classroom as quickly as possible, squealing right as they passed under the door.

"Rachel, we already discussed this for at least forty-five minutes last night. What else can I tell you?"

"You can tell me if he's a good kisser or not!" Rachel clapped her hands, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Fine. He is." Blaine was actually extraordinarily good, but he wasn't about to admit that to her.

"So I_ am_ good. Thanks, Kurt!" A familiar voice said from behind them, and Kurt whirled around to see Blaine behind them, a smile on his face. Kurt was glad that he didn't say more about the matter, since his ears were already burning. "Can I talk to you? Just for a second," he nodded towards the boy's bathroom next to them.

"We're going to the locker room for gym; why can't we do it-oh!" Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm and dragged him away. Kurt gave Rachel a strangled "bye" as he was thrust into the bathroom: no one was inside, thankfully.

All of a sudden Blaine's lips were on his, warm and wet and slightly flavored from his Chapstick. Kurt let himself melt into the kiss; it was somewhat of a relief after nearly only a stressful hour of school.

"What was that for?" Kurt asked incredulously as they broke apart, placing his hands on the sink behind him to steady himself.

"One, because I missed you, two, because I needed to remind myself that the boyfriend I've been telling some people about is actually here and not at Dalton, and three, because I am not just a good kisser, I am _great_," he said conceitedly, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Fine, you're the best kisser in the world. Satisfied?" Kurt retorted with as much endearing sarcasm as he could muster, and Blaine gave him a smug smile. "No, but have you really told people?"

"…By 'people' I meant Sam. And we should go; Rachel will probably get suspicious." Kurt nodded, and they exited the bathroom. "Anyway," Blaine began carefully when they entered the hallway, "It's only third period, and I'm not about to go to the front of my classes and be like 'hey, I've got a boyfriend!' I told Sam before school, and he sort of looked at me and said 'yeah, I kind of expected it, since you'd always make this weird face when we'd talk about boobs and banging girls.' Oops. He said that he was cool with it, though, and that he's mad that I've lost my single status before him. That's no surprise, based on the amount of times he does impressions—he's such a nerd."

Kurt laughed as they entered the locker room, the acrid aroma of sweat and testosterone engulfing them.

"While it's nice to subtly check out the very few attractive guys in here," Blaine whispered in his ear, changing the subject while they navigated their way through the maze of lockers and changing boys, "I just don't like the locker room. It's a tad bit too unsanitary for me. And then I feel like a creep-like when I saw you in here for the first time."

"What about that?" All Kurt could remember was the length of the shorts Blaine was wearing-or the lack of it.

"You, um, you weren't wearing any shorts," Blaine said timidly, and Kurt was almost a hundred percent sure his ears were on fire. They were at Kurt's locker; he'd subconsciously unlocked it and had started to retrieve his gym clothes. "I guess-I guess I'll go now," Blaine glanced at Kurt's torso, where his hand was on the hem of his shirt.

"Oh-right." Kurt called to Blaine's retreating figure. _Oh God, was I about to strip right in front of him_? He thought worriedly, and started to change a bit faster than usual. The thought of Blaine seeing him without a shirt…it was daunting. Doing other things was exponentially more frightening.

The one question he'd refused to answer during their little game on Sunday continued to bother him all week long. Sometimes he was glad that he hadn't answered to save himself the embarrassment, but other times he almost felt remorse for not admitting to Blaine. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was somewhat afraid of sex and anything related to it. Kurt was thankful that Blaine hadn't really explored the topic because he'd probably die-he knew death would definitely come if Burt discussed..._it_...with him. He'd welcome death over "The Talk."

Something was changing, though. Ever since Blaine came into the picture, a minuscule interest in the subject had awakened in the back of his mind. He felt that he owed it to himself to understand these feelings, and knew that he should at least acknowledge them.

What he didn't know was that Blaine had a little plan for him and his father that night.

* * *

"Mr. Hummel, can you talk?" Blaine walked into Hummel Tires and Lube on Monday right as school let out, since practice was still being held at normal time. The fact that Kurt, his own boyfriend, hardly knew a thing about sex continued to bother him ever since Sunday night when he'd laid in his bed considering this dilemma when usually he'd be masturbating while thinking of Kurt-now that just seemed _weird_. Not that it wasn't awkward in the first place-he'd done it before they got together, more times than he'd ever admit. He knew that with Kurt's young age, he'd be uneducated, but this was not what he'd expected at all. In fact, Blaine was shocked that Mr. Hummel didn't speak with Kurt yet. They had such a great relationship, from what Blaine could tell...perhaps Burt was afraid as well.

"Yeah, what's up?" He looked so masculine as he retreated from the car he was working on, his hands and parts of his face covered in car grease.

"Is it okay if I ask you something? I hope I don't overstep or anything..."

* * *

"Hey, Kurt? Could you come up here for a bit?" Kurt closed his English textbook, grumbling under his breath as he suspected that his father was calling him upstairs to wash dishes or do something trivial and less important than his English homework.

He entered the kitchen to find his dad hovering over the table, where he could see a few thin sheets of colorful paper sitting in front of him. Upon further inspection, he saw the words "gay" and "sex" and other phrases that set off a golf course of red flags in his mind.

"No, no, _no_, we are not discussing this!" Kurt said, sticking his fingers in his ears. _What is going on, why has he decided to do this now, oh God, it's only been three days and he's already found out-_

"You know I don't want to do this either, but to be frank, you're in high school now, and, excuse my French, but shit is going to happen, and I want you to be prepared. I kind of...flipped through these pamphlets here, and I think they explain it pretty well, so I'll be brief. I'm not going to go through the...mechanics of it, but this is more education than the amount you get at school, which is zero regarding gay sex.

"All I'm going to say is that I don't want you throwing yourself around like you're not worth anything, because you are worth something-more than something, at least to me. And maybe one day you'll find someone that also thinks you're worth more than something, and you two can practice this safely...when you're at least thirty. Got it?"

Kurt merely grunted in reply, letting his father's wise words bounce around in his mind despite his anger. What could have ever possessed his father to discuss this now?

"Where did you get these pamphlets from, Dad?" He queried, refusing to look at them until Burt shoved them in his face.

Burt shifted a little uncomfortably. "I don't think he really wanted me to mention his name, but Blaine stopped by today and talked to me about how I should have a chat with you before you had to find out for yourself. He gave them to me. That kid is really looking out for you, even though this came out of the blue. Does this have to do with something that happened this weekend?" Burt inquired with a raised eyebrow, and Kurt immediately shook his head, his rage at Blaine increasing by the minute. "Good. Now take these pamphlets and read them, please. I'm going to come down at some point and make sure you're reading them, okay? No skimming. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

"Okay." _I am going to kill Blaine. I am going to kill Blaine. I am going to kill Blaine._

He grabbed the papers and cantered away, trying to figure out the most effective method of murder.

_I know. I ignore him, just like old times. If he wants me to talk about_ that_, then I'm not going to talk about anything, especially not to _him_._

_…_

_Maybe just for a few days, since I probably won't be able to handle any longer than that._

* * *

"Oh, so you still show up after ignoring me for a whole two days," Blaine intoned monotonously when he opened the door of the gym to find Kurt in front of him.

"Can we talk now?" Kurt asked, unable to meet Blaine's eyes. It was true-he'd hardly even glanced at Blaine since Tuesday morning when he'd accidentally made eye contact while walking to second period. While it somewhat killed him to ignore his boyfriend, it didn't feel any worse than the pain Blaine had inflicted on him. He'd considered not going to his extra practice with Blaine that night, but figured that enough time had passed for their relationship to be in question, and that somehow Sue Sylvester would find out and skin him.

"If you're willing to, then sure. I guess it was a good thing that I set everything up with a small hope that you'd come," Blaine laughed quietly as he led Kurt to the edge of the basketball court, where a blue mat was lying. "I was just working on the new routine by myself; we can work on it together after we get this all sorted out. Either way, we're going to be stuck here with each other for two hours unless you—you decide to leave," he said cautiously, and gestured for Kurt to take a seat in the center of the mat. He did as he was instructed, and Blaine followed suit, sliding down the wall behind him.

"I'm not sorry for what I asked of your father. It's important for you to know, and it's better that it would happen that way. No, let me finish," Blaine cut Kurt's attempt to interrupt off, "I-I want you to know exactly what you do or do not want in this relationship, if we even have one anymore, which I hope to God that we still do, because I don't know how I can live knowing that I only dated you for not even a _week_. I'm sorry that you're uncomfortable with the subject, and it seems like you still are, but trust me, it's a lot better that you did it this way, rather than how I did through looking it up on my own, or how you could've learned through...through practice." A pause fell upon then as the two of them imagined the latter two: Kurt could not help but feel like maybe his talk with his dad really wasn't so bad-at least in comparison. "I just want you to know that we can talk about...I don't know, whatever, and that I will never, never, _never_ pressure you into anything, okay?" His last statement sunk into Kurt's brain, along with the rest of what Blaine said. While he hated to think it, Blaine was right. It wasn't just educational for Kurt himself, but his father too. What would come of his and Blaine's physical relationship, he had no idea, but based on the way his heart was thumping at the fact that Blaine's thigh was brushing against his, and that his eyes couldn't decide whether they wanted to focus on Blaine's eyes or his lips while he listened to him talk, Kurt knew that it was heading in that direction. In fact, he was starting to feel grateful towards Blaine that he'd taken the initiative.

"Okay. I'm sorry that I reacted this way; it's so immature and stupid and ugh I feel like an idiot."

"Kurt, I think I know you pretty well, well enough to know that you are _not_ an idiot." Blaine placed a comforting hand on Kurt's back and rubbed it gently. "Now that that's all over with—right?" Kurt confirmed by nodding, and Blaine continued, "—we can move onto practicing."

After about an hour of vigorously going over the new, difficult routine, and finally mastering his hurdler and pike jumps, Blaine granted Kurt a desperately-needed water break. Blaine opted to continue tumbling on the mat instead. Kurt watched from the bleachers, amazed at his boyfriend's incredible flexibility: he'd never really realized how talented he was. After a few minutes, Blaine ended with a split, and Kurt got down from his seat, clapping slowly.

"That was just…my mind is blown, Blaine." He approached an exhausted Blaine, shaky breaths racking through his body as he rose from the floor.

"Oh, stop it," Blaine panted and waved Kurt away. "I think that's enough for tonight, so we can end early. I don't think I can handle anything else." He backed up against the wall and sighed; Kurt followed and stood next to him. "Before we end, though…can I just..." He faced Kurt, a small spark igniting in his tired eyes as he leaned over and brushed his wet lips against Kurt's chapped ones, his warm breath beating against Kurt's cheeks as he pulled away. "I'm sorry, I've been waiting all night, no, scratch that, _two days _to do that. It's like drinking water again." He kissed Kurt more urgently, whose body automatically responded because shit, he missed it so much, and a new kind of fervor engulfed the two of them as Blaine shifted so he was in front of Kurt.

"I know it's ridiculous," Blaine said breathlessly as he pressed his lips against Kurt's again, "but I missed you so fucking much during the past twenty four hours. Never. Do. That. Again." He peppered little kisses along Kurt's jawline at each pause, and emphasized the order with a fierce, passion-driven kiss that almost made Kurt forget his own name. _Hummel has two m's, right?_

"Okay" was all Kurt could utter as he returned it, letting his hands rest on Blaine's hips. He let his thumbs dig into the damp, cottony material of his shirt, pressing into his protruding bones under a hard layer of skin and muscle. He yearned to sneak his fingers underneath the offensive article of clothing and simply touch him, but he didn't know how to ask. _Should I ask? Would he like it if I just did it? All I want to do is feel that smooth skin beneath my fingers; I bet he's completely ripped..._

"Are you all right?" Blaine unexpectedly broke away again; this time, however, there was a concerned look on his face, and his hands drifted away from Kurt's back. "You seem to be distracted. Am I...am I doing something wrong?"

_It wouldn't hurt to tell him._ "I was just wondering whether I should ask you if it's okay to-to, um, do this," Kurt replied, and timidly grazed his fingertips against the hem of Blaine's shirt, very nearly making contact with the sliver of skin that was showing above his warm-up pants. The way he felt Blaine shiver at the gesture sent a burst of electricity throughout all of his nerves.

"_I _know," Blaine replied coyly, and backed away from Kurt to reach his hands behind him and-

_Oh no. Oh God. Oh fucking hell this is _not _happening!_

Blaine threw his shirt to the floor and grabbed Kurt's trembling hands, placing them on his trim, sweaty hips. They were cool and hard like fine marble; Blaine truly was a work of art, a majestic sculpture one can only find in the Louvre or the National Gallery or somewhere where it can be admired by millions.

But they were in the school gym, and Blaine was a living, breathing person (who had reverted back to kissing Kurt rather sloppily), and he was all Kurt's. Only Kurt could see him like this, could touch him-and he knew that he'd take full advantage of his exclusive VIP access.

He shamelessly let his hands travel up and down Blaine's olive skin, still tanned from shirtless days by the pool over the summer, Kurt assumed. Strangely enough, he didn't mind how sweaty Blaine was—it was actually _hot_. His fingers caressed Blaine's rib bones like piano keys, playing some inaudible, imagined melody that locked in time with the now-rhythmic touches of their lips. The incoherent sound crescendoed as Blaine threaded his arms through Kurt's and rested on the small of his back, urging him closer. Kurt obeyed, their bodies so close together that it didn't seem physically possible that they still weren't touching. Kurt was slightly disheartened at this fact, since he wanted Blaine to stand back so he could stare at his beautiful body and memorize its every intricacy, but his disappointment was soon smothered with the sensation of a pair of hungry lips on his neck, completely unexplored territory. This is new, Kurt thought: before, he'd flinch at the thought of someone kissing his neck, or even worse, giving him a hickey, but now that seemed okay-not okay, desirable. His fingers increased their runs over the keys of Blaine's rib cage as Blaine searched and searched across the alabaster canvas of Kurt's skin.

"_Oh_," Kurt let out a low moan he didn't even know he was capable of as Blaine found a sensitive spot just below his ear, close to his fluttering pulse. Blaine uttered an equally erotic moan, knowing that he was doing something so right, so incredibly right, and continued to suck on that same spot, conjuring mixed feelings of insignificant, miniscule pain and infinite pleasure and a pressing necessity for more, more, more. He let his head fall back against the wall; his hands unconsciously rubbed higher and higher, feeling Blaine's upper abs and pecs until-

"_Kurt!_" Blaine hissed when his fingertips accidentally brushed Blaine's nipples. _Oh my god. Oh my god. What have I done?_ He was embarrassed that he'd lost control, that his hands had wandered from their safe spot on his sides, and wasn't necessarily sure if it was a pleasant feeling, to have someone touch-

"_Kurt_," Blaine repeated, but moaned it in the most amorous, desperate way that caused the hairs on the back of Kurt's neck to prickle. He felt Blaine push him back up against the wall behind him roughly, but then contrasted his aggressive manner with a sweet, deep kiss, his entire mouth capturing Kurt's. He willed his drooping eyelids open to try to watch Blaine, but all he could see was smooth, clear skin in front of him, his own hands (when did that happen?) grasping onto both of his cheeks. As they separated for air, Kurt caught a quick glance at the clock and jumped in surprise.

"Wha's wrong?" Blaine slurred, his eyes fixed on Kurt with a sedated look in his hazel eyes. He looked so at peace; as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"We've got to go; it's nearly 11:10!" He slipped away under Blaine's arms, making sure that Blaine could only see his back because he was _so_ hard it was embarrassing. Blaine seemed to wake up at that, and Kurt heard him fall in step next to him. They grabbed their bags; Kurt tried to discreetly hide himself from Blaine by holding his bag in front of him. He glanced at Blaine, who seemed to be doing the same thing. _Fuck._ At this rate, there was no way he'd be able to cool down.

They wordlessly sprinted out of the gym and into the cold night, their breaths visible in the sparse lighting of the parking lot. Kurt jumped into the passenger seat as Blaine got in next to him and floored it. As they pulled out of the property, Kurt watched a new pair of headlights enter.

"That was close," he said, turning towards Blaine, who was focused on the road.

"That was close," Blaine repeated with a sigh, "we have to be a little more careful when we…lose our focus." They laughed, the ever-present sexual tension persistently swirling around them even in the air of their escape.

* * *

That was the first night Kurt jerked off. How could he help himself after such a heavy make-out session left completely unresolved? There he was, laying in his bed surrounded by dark shadows that continuously turned into Blaine-Blaine standing in front of the bed, Blaine taking off his shirt, Blaine creeping up over him and engulfing him, the presence of his illusory silhouette causing the memory of the past few hours back to replay in his mind...

Before Kurt knew it, he was palming at his half-hard erection, not even sure of how that happened. All he knew was that he kind of liked it. He backed the heel of his palm into his clothed crotch and felt his breath hitch in his throat. This...this was much different than kissing. This was far more...he couldn't find the word.

This was...amazing.

He gasped as, for a split second, the image of Blaine doing this to him crossed his brain. _Jesus fucking Christ._ He squirmed in his bed as his hand then fluttered to the waistband of his pajamas. His cock was already aching to be touched again. He could feel Blaine's broad hands on him again, teasing at the material, his long, piano-playing fingers slipping underneath...

No. You are not going to think about Blaine while doing this. That is just weird. And wrong. And so fucking hot-goddamnit, Kurt, just get it over with!

But you're doing this because of Blaine, right? A small voice protested as his hand continued to brush over himself. Something Blaine had said about a month ago came back to him, looping like a broken record in his mind: _I'm the fucking captain of the Cheerios, I can't be staying up all night thinking of a-a freshman like you!_ He'd basically admitted to fooling around with himself multiple times. Am I really that...he didn't want to use the word sexy, because that was the absolute last word he'd use to describe himself, but it seemed to be the only appropriate word to use. Regardless, though, Blaine had admitted to touching himself because of Kurt, and Kurt wasn't sure of what to think of the information. As he gripped himself in his hand, he didn't want to think anymore.

* * *

"Alright, settle down, everyone. Blaine asked if he could do a number since he's recently come out," some mutters echoed around the choir room, where Blaine and Mr. Schuester were standing by the piano the next day, "and I couldn't turn him or his amazing voice down, so, take it away, Blaine."

Kurt stared down at Blaine, who only sent him a fleeting glance. He had that weird look in his eyes, something churning in his nearly-gold irises as he looked around the room. Blaine had been jittery all day long; Kurt figured that it was out of exuberance for their make-up and make-out from the night before, but

"This is dedicated to my boyfriend," his stupid grin grew as he enunciated the word, "since I wouldn't have gotten through this process without him." Rachel made a little sound and spun around to stare at Kurt. Her smile was even more ridiculous than Blaine's; it rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat. Kurt sent her the death glare, imagining little knives embedded in her body, since someone definitely noticed that she'd looked at Kurt, someone must've found out, oh my God no...

"Hit it!" Blaine said to the band of brass instruments, and they began to play a very familiar song. All of Kurt's troubles floated away with the upbeat tune as he watched Blaine prance around the floor like an idiot, putting a pair of yellow-framed Ray Bans on that contrasted awfully with his Cheerios uniform. He occasionally looked up at Kurt with that same dumb smile that he loved more than he could ever enunciate.

"It's not unusual to be loved by anyone," Blaine's smooth, tenor voice began, and once again Kurt found himself falling into its charm, as did everyone else, as far as he could tell. They began clapping along; Mercedes went as far as helping Rachel up so they could start dancing. This song was so uncharacteristic of the serious, no-nonsense cheer captain Kurt had met at the beginning of the year.

"It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you," Blaine belted out before a series of vocal runs, and Kurt felt his hands stop before they met to clap again. Did he really mean that line? The song was about love, and he dedicated it to his boyfriend...he couldn't really mean that he was in love, just that he harbored strong feelings for Kurt, strong enough for him to simply dedicate the performance, not the actual words.

Regardless, the lyrics still sunk into his skin, simmering and seeping into his veins.

* * *

Friday soon came along, which meant the Glee club's big recruitment performance. Mr. Schue had presented a bunch of ideas to the club, all of which were rejected simply for being disco. They'd protested as much as they could, but of course Mr. Schue's executive power could not be overthrown by the people, and he was adamant in having them perform a disco number.

The club had different plans, though—namely, Santana. She'd gathered up the entire club immediately after the tortuous meeting (aside from Blaine's outstanding performance, of course) and herded them into the gym to divulge her idea.

"Listen up, dumb asses. None of you want to perform that song, right? It's awful and it won't get us any new members, not to mention that we'll all look like fucktards. Well, most of you already do, but I can't afford to look any more like a peasant than I already do by giving this stupid club my precious time that I could be fucking someone's boyfriend with. I've got a number that will definitely have people interested," she gave them a devilish grin, and Kurt knew that either it wouldn't or it would get them all in trouble. "We need to do a sexy song." Definitely the latter.

"All right, places everyone!" Rachel called out, and Kurt took his spot next to Santana. There were only seconds before the curtain would open and the entire Glee club would become sex fiends.

"This was probably the best idea I've had yet; there's no way this club will survive," she whispered into Kurt's ear, and then slapped his ass as the curtains parted. He had no time to react as the music started-there was only one word going through his mind that began with "f" and ended with "uck", but was not "firetruck."

"_Get up on this!_" Kurt stole a glance at Blaine on the other side of the stage, and felt even more gratitude for the fact that he had not been partnered with him for any of the provocative choreography. He remembered ducking his head when Santana stopped the music at the two-hour long practice the day before to help Blaine with gyrating his hips the right way and the stab of jealously that reverberated throughout his entire body. That was quickly replaced with embarrassment when Santana walked over to him to fix the same problem.

"What, you and Blaine aren't fucking yet?" she had breathed into his ear as she put her hands on his hips, and Kurt resisted the urge to slap her. Well, he did get the opportunity to slap her later on during the song, but not how he wanted to.

The performance was excruciatingly long, yet it seemed to flash right before Kurt's eyes. He knew that he'd made a couple of mistakes (especially from looking at Blaine one too many times but he would never admit that to be the reason), and would probably get made fun of for ages for being the least sexy organism on the planet ("Let's face it, Santana, this is at least the fifteenth time that you've come here to fix me up; there's nothing you can do to get me to improve." "I can think of one thing…" "Santana, no." "Well then, Lady Madonna, I guess there really is no hope for you."), but as they stood at the edge of the stage, gasping for breath after shouting "_Push it!_" one last time, he knew it didn't matter as the entire gymnasium exploded with applause.

* * *

Even though Blaine had offered to drive him over after the game on Saturday, Kurt opted to go home first so he could shower and physically and mentally prepare himself. There was a certain pressure with being home alone with Blaine, although now he trusted him completely: it was simply the idea. It didn't mean that he wasn't looking forward to the benefits, though. They'd hardly had any time to talk since "Push It", and Kurt could tell that Blaine had a lot to say based on the way he'd looked at him afterwards.

"Hey, come on in, it's cold out there!" Blaine dragged Kurt inside after he'd spent some time waiting for him to open the door of his house. He took in the interior of the large house as he took off his shoes. From the outside, the house looked rather nice: as Kurt examined his surroundings, it was obvious that the exterior was an accurate reflection of the inside. He figured that Blaine's parents held higher-class jobs than his father's car-shop ownership. Blaine led him down a hallway filled with elaborate paintings and intricate decor; as they reached the end of the hall, Kurt peered into the room in front of them, since the door was left ajar. He could see the polished keys of a baby grand piano in front of them. Unfortunately, Kurt could not inspect any further as Blaine turned to the left and started down a flight of stairs into what must be the basement. Kurt knew he shouldn't be shocked to see it considering the other lavish paraphernalia he'd seen throughout the house, but a large, barely-used couch was sitting in front of a theater-type screen, and his jaw couldn't help but drop slightly.

"So, do you want to start the movie first or chat?" Blaine asked as they plopped down onto the couch. "We have plenty of time, but I wanted to cook something for dinner by seven, and the movie is kind of long so…"

"We can talk, I guess. What's for dinner?"

"Something," Blaine said cryptically, "you'll see. Do you think Coach is still mad at Santana?"

"Probably, yes. Did you see her after 'Push It?' I've never seen her so livid. When she found out it was Santana's idea…I don't really think she listened to Santana's explanation and how she thought that the whole sex theme would get all of us in deep shit." He could still hear Santana's desperate cries over Sue's threats of expulsion from the Cheerios as the rest of the Cheerios listened through the door of their coach's office earlier that day.

"I'm glad it didn't. We got a lot of new members, right?"

"Right. I guess it was worth it, in the end, even though Mr. Schue was almost as pissed as Coach. We just can't get rid of the club, can we?"

"Nope, and I'm glad about that. That would mean no more singing, which would kill me, and probably no more Wednesday practices. Speaking of, I was hoping we could start off where Wednesday ended, since that was left way too unresolved for my liking," Blaine grinned, and leaned over to kiss Kurt. Heat rose to his cheeks as he remembered that he himself had resolved their activities, and he ducked his head. "What's up, you don't want to?"

"No," Kurt started, and sighed, unbelieving of what he was about to say, "I kind of continued where we left off...by myself."

Kurt watched as Blaine's pupils blew up right in front of him, lust-filled black holes surrounded by stormy gold rings. His pink lips parted, and Kurt was pretty sure that he heard Blaine utter an "oh God" under his breath. He could feel himself stiffen a bit in his pants just at Blaine's reaction and how...hot it was.

"So," Blaine cleared his throat as he regained his composure after a few minutes, "so you did it?" Kurt nodded, hoping that Blaine couldn't see how red he was in the dimly lit room. "Can you..can you tell me what-what you did? I totally get it if I'm overstepping, I'm so sorry, I bet I did-"

He knew there was no way he could handle going into specifics, so he decided to be as detailed as possible, which was not much at all. "It was an interesting, um, experience. I just kind of...you know," Kurt glanced down at his guarded crotch, which was growing at Blaine's blatant interest. "It felt...amazing, in the end."

"Would it be okay if I made you feel amazing again?" Blaine asked huskily, and Kurt's brain short-circuited. He looked up into Blaine's eyes and then quickly looked away, unable to hold his bright, willing gaze.

_Holy shit. He wants to touch my dick. Oh crap oh crap oh crap_...there was no way he could be any more articulate in his mind.

"O-okay," he said shakily, his voice nearing two-octaves higher than his normal pitch.

"We'll start slowly, all right?" Blaine said soothingly, and brought his hand to Kurt's chin, tipping it up towards him. "You can tell me if you want to stop, if it ever gets to be too much. Is that okay?"

For the first time, Kurt leaned forward and let the corners of his lips meet Blaine's. He whispered "okay" against Blaine's mouth, and felt him hum in reply. They stayed glued together for what seemed like a millennium, and then Blaine broke away to drag his lips against Kurt's cheek towards his ear.

"You looked so damn hot yesterday; I was actually glad that we weren't together at all because I was afraid of what I would've done," his teeth grazed his hair and Blaine the proceeded to nip at his earlobe, a burst of unexpected arousal rippling through his body.

"What-what would you have done?" Kurt dared to ask, and Blaine groaned.

"Well first I would've kissed you, because I'm that much of a gentleman," he leaned down down and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, "just like that so they'd think it was just a stage kiss or something. That's inconspicuous enough, right? Then, at the part where we were both hidden in the back behind the girls, I would've kissed you how you deserve to be kissed for being so sexy, like so," and he leaned down to meet Kurt's mouth again, this time with teeth clashing and tongues meeting and the heated kiss ending as quickly as it had started, "it would be that short because we wouldn't have much time, but I'd want you to know how much I wanted you. Next, we'd be partners for the grinding part, and I'd let you rub your hand on me like what you were doing to Santana, which was _so_ uncalled for," he demonstrated by taking Kurt's hands and placing them on his hips and running them down the hard curves of his thighs and back up again, eliciting throaty groans from both parties, "and then, that part where the girls pretended to jerk the boys off," he grinned shyly as Kurt watched him with wide eyes, "I'll show you.

"First, though, it's getting a little hot for these clothes. Here," Blaine grabbed criss-crossed his arms and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up over his head and throwing it behind him. "Do you want...do you want me to do it?" He asked as Kurt remained sitting up, frozen in place as he took in a half-naked Blaine in front of him for the second time that week. Kurt couldn't help but let his eyes flicker towards the happy trail starting at Blaine's belly button and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans. He mechanically nodded his head, and Blaine brought his hot hands to the hem of Kurt's shirt, his fingertips sneaking up slightly so he was tickling his cool skin. Smiling, he languidly stripped it from his boyfriend's body, guiding it over his stretched arms. They sat there, taking in the intimacy of their shared half-nakedness. Kurt blushed as he felt Blaine's eyes exploring his exposed skin, knowing that his wiry frame was nothing compared to Blaine's impeccable figure. Yes, he'd gained some muscle and definition from being a Cheerio, but it didn't do much to his naturally thin body; there was no way Blaine would like it-

"God, Kurt, do you have any idea of what your body does to me?" He gently pushed Kurt down so he was lying down on the couch with Blaine on all fours over him. It was the same position as that day in the gym, yet completely different. He wanted this-he wanted Blaine. "I just want to kiss every inch of your gorgeous skin; it's a shame everyone calls you Porcelain in a negative manner. They obviously haven't seen you like this, because porcelain has never seemed so beautiful." Kurt prayed that Blaine hadn't glanced down south yet, since he was already painfully hard and he was pretty sure that his skinny pants made it rather obvious. "Now, where was I? Okay, then there was that part where Rachel strutted towards you and started running her fingers down your front," Blaine let his fingertips glide over Kurt's chest at an impossibly slow pace; it was much sexier than the quick drag of her fingers from the base of his neck to his belly button. "Except I'm not going to do it exactly her way," he brought both of his hands to Kurt's sternum, and then separated them, tracing back up towards his shoulders and then back down to his chest like the arches in a heart. They came dangerously close to his nipples, and Kurt suddenly understood why Blaine reacted the way he did on Wednesday. His fingers were only centimeters away, but the touch sent a wave of excitement from his fingers to his toes. Blaine continued to trail his fingers down Kurt's body, the silence filled by their heavy breathing.

Eventually, Blaine made it down Kurt's hard stomach and to the top of his jeans. Kurt shivered in anticipation, knowing that Blaine would soon drag his gaze away from his eyes and look down at the growing bulge in his crotch.

"Now comes the part where I ask you if you're ready," Blaine said somewhat shakily, and Kurt nodded. "No, I want to hear it," he persisted, his hands pressing into his skin, and Kurt unintentionally moaned "yes" in response. All he wanted in that moment was for Blaine to just _touch_ him. He wasn't even taken aback by the thought anymore. He _needed_ it.

The hands fell down to the pockets of his jeans; Kurt knew that he had to feel the strain of the material. He leaned down to pleasantly surprise Kurt with a sweet kiss, and while their lips were still attached, he cupped Kurt from the outside, causing him to gasp audibly against Blaine's lips. Groaning, Blaine captured Kurt's lower lip in his teeth for a split second and then let it go as Kurt squirmed beneath him at the sensation of his hand.

Blaine's hand moved, palming Kurt from the outside, sending jolts throughout his body. He let out a long sigh as Blaine squeezed him, and suddenly touching him through his clothing was not enough. Blaine seemed to realize that. The hand traveled up to the button of his jeans, and with a quick, desperate nod, he unbuttoned them, sliding the zipper down. This was at a pace that was a little too slow for Kurt, because fuck his cock was begging to be touched again after a few seconds of being neglected, and he grabbed the sides of his pants and tugged them down. What he forgot was that he was still wearing his Victoria's Secret thong from the game earlier. Blaine seemed to notice, as his eyes traveled down to stare and widened at their sight.

"Kurt...are those _girl's_ underwear?!" He asked incredulously, and Kurt felt his face become engulfed in flames at the tone of the question.

"It-I didn't-I needed more, so-"

"Kurt, you could've just asked me, or Coach; there's plenty of this kind of stuff for men that's better...equipped; you could've just looked online for Christ's sake. Although, I must admit," his fingers skirted across the front of the material, and Kurt was pretty sure that he had died right then and there, "I think this is really, really, _really_ hot."

Kurt practically whimpered at that, and Blaine gripped him hard through the flimsy lingerie in response. "Fuck, Kurt, it doesn't even fit you when you're like this!" He freed Kurt's legs of the jeans that he'd only been able to push down to mid-thigh, and slowly brought his attention back to Kurt's straining erection. His thumb traced its outline, nearly driving Kurt to insanity.

"Damn it, Blaine, touch me!" Kurt nearly barked, and Blaine stopped his fourth round of outlining.

"_Christ_," Blaine replied, not in anger at Kurt's impatience, but in lust. His fingers teased at the waistband of the thong, moving to his sides. He shimmied the article of clothing down, freeing his erection. Kurt practically hissed at the sensation, and then realized that he was completely bare in front of Blaine, who seemed to have just realized that as well. His eyes made their way up from Kurt's feet, up his shins, his knees, his thighs, until...

"Oh, fuck, Kurt, just… _fuck,_ you're so beautiful," Blaine said breathlessly, and burrowed his face into the crook of Kurt's neck, quickly finding his sensitive spot again. "I know I'm supposed to say something romantic right now but I hardly even know what I'm saying or thinking," he gently kissed the mark that Kurt had worked so hard to disguise with cover-up, but that was the least of Kurt's concerns in that moment. He was focused on keeping his breathing normal as he watched Blaine's hand grasp at the inside of his thigh, massaging the tensed muscle as it leisurely made its way closer and closer to his cock. "_Relax_," he whispered tenderly.

"How am I supposed to relax when you're—_oh_!" He gasped as the hand finally closed around him. It was so much different than his slender, gentle fingers—Blaine's calloused ones were more broad and rough and absolutely perfect. It stayed immobile for the longest time as they looked at each other, silently reveling in the new field of pleasure they were exploring. Kurt's hips involuntarily twitched as Blaine traced his finger down his jawline, letting Blaine know that he was starting to lose it. Thankfully, the movement was understood, and the hand hesitantly slid up and down Kurt's hard cock.

"I've done this so many times to myself but I just—how does this feel?" Blaine asked as he stroked Kurt two, three, four times, steadily gaining a rhythm.

"It—ah—oh my _God_, Blaine," Kurt stuttered as Blaine flicked his wrist. He was already slick with pre-come, and knew the end was already near based on the strange, hot coiling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Blaine's pace increased, his breath hitching every so often and muttering a few "_oh my Gods_" and "_fucks_" here and there. Eventually, Kurt could not take it anymore: his hips bucked up to meet Blaine's fist, and they moaned loudly in unison. Out of nowhere, just as Kurt was going to warn Blaine that he was about to come, Blaine stopped and removed his hand.

"What—no-" Kurt whined, not caring about how desperate he sounded.

"Shh, trust me, babe," Blaine soothed, and pressed his lips against Kurt's parted ones, kissing him slowly and deeply. "I said I was going to make you feel amazing, and I'm going to keep my promise." He kissed Kurt again, and then progressively moved his mouth down Kurt's jawline, his neck, his collarbone, covering the expanse of Kurt's naked chest. It was so different and new and almost as good as Blaine's hand on his dick. Key word:_ almost_.

As Kurt quickly learned, both together were inexplicably inconceivable.

Their resonant moans echoed throughout the empty house as Blaine hungrily kissed, no, _licked_ Kurt's pecs, pumping his hand up and down as Kurt fucked up into it. He could feel Blaine's legs rubbing against his thigh, no, his crotch, his _hard _crotch rutting into him. Before he even knew it, brilliant white lights exploded behind his closed eyes and he was coming long and hard, gasping the only word he knew and the only word in the entire universe in that moment: _Blaine_. His hands softened their grip on Blaine's sinewy back, which was definitely scratched up from his fingernails. Eventually, he let them fall to the couch as he slowly opened his eyes. Nothing seemed to be in focus except Blaine's face, which was hovering above his with an awed look on his face. Kurt gave him a shy smile as his pulse finally began to regulate.

"Kurt…" other than that, Blaine seemed to be rendered speechless. "That," he began again after a few minutes of trying to fish out the perfect words from the ocean of idioms swirling in his mind, "was definitely the hottest thing I've ever witnessed and experienced. I can't believe I got to see that…to _do_ that with you." His hair was a poofy mess; Kurt followed a bead of sweat trailing down from his forehead, down the side of his face, his cheekbones... "Do you want to, um, clean up?"

"Please," it took Kurt a second to find his voice. His head fell back into the couch in exhaustion. He felt Blaine leave his side, and then returned with a box of tissues. As quickly as he had reappeared, Blaine retreated away, heading towards the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"Um," Blaine started in an embarrassed tone, "I need to…I need to clean myself up as well."

"Did I—did I get anything on you?" Kurt was suddenly very self-conscious of his lack of clothing: he bent his leg to conceal his softening dick.

"No. You kind of sent me over," Blaine laughed uncomfortably, and Kurt almost choked on air. He swiftly disappeared from sight, and Kurt commenced his clean-up, trying to wrap his head around what had just taken place.

A few minutes later, Kurt emerged from the bathroom after washing himself as best he could, and splashing his still-flushed face with cold water. He found Blaine in a new pair of sweatpants under half of a fleece blanket. The words "_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_" were displayed on the gargantuan screen.

"We're really going to watch _Harry Potter_ after _that_?" The words slipped from Kurt's lips before he could stop himself, and Blaine laughed.

"Come here," he urged playfully, and Kurt obliged, a grin growing on his face. He sat down next to Blaine, who immediately attacked his sides and started tickling him into oblivion.

"No—I am—very ticklish—no fair!" Kurt squealed between his laughter, and Blaine silenced him with a quick peck on the lips.

"I've been planning this all week long, let's just watch," he said as he pressed play.

"What, the movie or the hand-"

"Oh, shut up," Blaine muttered, but Kurt could see even in the dark that his lips were curled back into a giddy smile.

* * *

A/N: Please review; it really does help! Get excited for the next chapter, because it's going to be a good one (I think so, at least...)


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, Kurt awoke to a text from Blaine. He turned over on his side and grabbed for his phone, warm memories of the night before engulfing his mind like the sheets wrapped around his body.

_(9:43) Did you get Santana's text?_

**(9:44) No, I don't think I have her number/she has my number/she wants my number**

_(9:45) hm. Oh well. She said that she came up with a Sue-approved plan, but it's awful. Better than Push It but…she wants to convince Rachel to throw a party next weekend and get everyone drunk out of their minds and somehow get all of them in trouble so their parents won't let them continue with the club or whatever. That's basically it._

**(9:47) that's a long text. I don't know what to think…although I can't help imagining what a drunken Rachel would do.**

_(9:48) oh please, I don't *want* to imagine that. I wonder what an inebriated Kurt would do ;)_

**(9:48) probably something along the lines of last night…**

_Did I really just text that?! _Kurt stared at the screen, simultaneously willing the response to arrive as soon as possible and to never receive a response, to completely erase that conversation.

_(9:50)…damn it Kurt. That was probably the best night of my life._

**(9:52) having to vacuum a bunch of popcorn that you accidentally spilled all over the stairs, eating semi-cold spaghetti because we didn't cook it correctly, and trying to play Cards Against Humanity even though we didn't have enough people?**

_(9:53) that's partially what made it great. I was thinking a little more along the lines of before all of that. What you were hinting at before…_

_(9:55) that…that was amazing, Kurt. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did._

Kurt didn't know how to react. He could not stop replaying the events in his mind; he could almost feel Blaine's hands on him again, the ghosts of his fingertips trailing down his chest, his abs, the waistband of—

**(9:57) trust me, I did.**

"Kurt! Are you up?" Burt called from upstairs. Groaning, Kurt sent a quick text to Blaine, somewhat glad to end the conversation that was heading in a direction he wasn't quite sure he wanted to have over text.

**(9:57) sorry, I have to go. Talk to you later?**

_(9:58) I have work later, but we can chat later tonight._

**(9:58) work?! You must explain to me tonight then. Bye**

_(9:58) xoxo_

As dumb as it was, he couldn't help but sigh as he glanced at the alternating two letters. The feeling of Blaine's arms wrapped around him resurfaced, conjuring the memory of the two of them wrapped up in a blanket while watching Harry find out he was a wizard and go on his magical adventures with Ron and Hermione. Even though he had showered vigorously when he got home late that night—he assumed that Burt was sleeping, since most of the lights were off—Kurt felt as if Blaine's scent still lingered on him, and that his father would find out about everything.

_Oh God, how am I supposed to face him after that?! _Kurt wondered, his stomach clenching as he opened the door and entered the kitchen.

The feeling immediately dissipated as he nearly stumbled back towards the door behind him, taking in the view before him. His father was reading the paper and eating a bowl of Cheerios, with someone sitting next to him.

"_Carole_?!" Kurt practically shouted, startling them. "Did she—did she spend the night?" Thoughts that Kurt never, ever wanted to think sprung up in his mind; he desperately tried to extinguish them, but to no avail.

"Good morning to you too, kid," Burt replied, a little irritated at Kurt's dramatic outburst, "and yes, she did, because…go on, Carole, you can tell him," he said to her warmly.

"Well you _asked_; I think you should do it!"

"But you said _yes_, so I think—"

"You're getting married?!" Kurt asked incredulously, placing the puzzle pieces together rather quickly. _They'd only been dating for a few months; how could they possibly _know _already…_

"…yes, yes we are." Carole answered after a brief silence. She gave him a small smile, her kind eyes asking for his approval.

Kurt felt that he should be angry. He wanted to be angry…mostly because he wasn't there. He found, however, that he was happy. Not happy, completely ecstatic for them.

"That…that's amazing! I'm so happy for you…Carole," he sped up to her and threw his arms around her neck, engulfing her in an enthusiastic hug, "…Dad." After he finished with Carole, he turned to his father, tears gathering in his eyes for whatever reason. He gave Burt a slower hug, trying to convey his congratulations, jubilation, and gratitude that he found someone so perfect for him and for their family.

"If you don't mind me asking-"

"—Carole and I were wondering if you'd like to plan the wedding?" Burt seemed to know exactly what Kurt was thinking.

"Yes, yes, of course!" Kurt answered with no hesitation. "Give me all of the details."

* * *

"I don't think—_ah_—this was what Sue had in mind when she—oh _God_, Blaine—instituted these practices," Kurt panted as Blaine crawled over him, pinning his wrists to the mat underneath him. It was another Wednesday night practice, although they quickly got distracted while they stretched together.

"I'm sorry; the way you were leaned back stretching your quad—you knew that there was no way we were actually going to practice tonight," he breathed against Kurt's neck. His back arched at the hot burst of air. "Would you rather practice?" he inquired, directing his attention to his perfect jaw.

"What do you think, _Captain_?" Kurt retorted and ducked his head so he was kissing Blaine on the mouth, his teeth teasing at his lower lip. Blaine moaned at the mention of his title and responded with much enthusiasm, his hands tightening their grip around Kurt's wrists. Kurt was grateful for this, as he was deathly afraid of what he'd do if Blaine let go.

He was also very grateful for the fact that Blaine was being very careful about keeping the rest of their bodies at a distance-especially their lower regions.

Time came to a stand-still as they continued to press their lips together; Kurt decided to take the initiative and venture down Blaine's neck, swiftly finding the spot that made him sigh with pleasure. He continued to kiss Blaine in that same area, enjoying the way that he was making the boy above him become completely undone until—

A pair of slim hips rolled against his, roughly and aggressively and absolutely _wonderfully_. As amazing as it felt, Kurt knew they were going too far, especially since they were in the _gym_ for Christ's sake. Blaine seemed completely unaware of what he had just done, and took Kurt's break from kissing his neck to bring his lips crashing down to his again.

"Blaine, we have to stop," Kurt tried to be stern, but his voice wavered at the stupid, _stupid _little sounds Blaine was making. "Blaine—stop!" he barked as his hips collided against his again. "Let go of me, please," he implored, and Blaine sluggishly obeyed, visibly distraught at the fact that they weren't touching anymore. Kurt scooted out from under him and tried to cover himself appropriately.

"What did I do wrong?" Blaine had no shame in his blatant erection; he slid over towards Kurt. "You want—you wanna cool down?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Kurt sighed and stood up. "I think we should leave, actually."

"…Kurt?" Blaine said hesitantly, and Kurt realized that Blaine really had no idea of what he did.

"Blaine, we were basically about to have _clothed sex_," Kurt whispered, even though they were completely alone. "I mean, I'd like to, you know…in the future, of course," he stumbled over his words, but continued on, "it's just that I would rather not do it in the school gym. That's weird."

"I agree," Blaine took his hand securely in his own and led him to their bags. "That's tacky. We should do that kind of stuff in other places that are more…appropriate."

"Yeah." Kurt breathed out. "I also have a lot of homework to do." The two of them laughed at the conventional problem. "Before we go, I just need to…splash my face with some cold water," _and my dick_, he added in his mind, _since it just doesn't seem to be going down_…

"Okay, I understand. I'll be waiting in the car." Blaine smiled coyly and strode away towards the door; Kurt started in the opposite direction.

Nearly a minute later, Kurt found himself in the bathroom, his face covered with frigid water from the sink. He splashed it on his cheeks vigorously, focusing on things that would cool him down. He still had yet to be in a closed area with Blaine for ten minutes—sometimes Kurt wanted to scream _fuck you!_ to Blaine because of the emotional, hormonal roller coaster he had forced him onto, but at the same time, Blaine Anderson…Blaine was everything now.

It took him a few minutes to compose himself: he checked his reflection in the mirror to make sure he wasn't that flushed. Even in the dim lighting, Kurt could tell that his cheeks were still a little pink, probably from the shock of the cold water. His hair was a little mussed up, probably from when Blaine shoved him against the mat. Kurt smoothed it out to its usual part and walked away from the mirror, leaving his reflection staring back at him, holding all of Kurt's insecurities about his appearance in its arms.

* * *

"Hey, I got a text from Rachel," Kurt opened up the message on his phone a few minutes later while Blaine pulled away. "_'_Dads are out this weekend-party at my house Saturday at seven until eleven. Glee club only. Tell Blaine :).' God, I hate that girl."

"How does she know that we're together right now?" Blaine asked, a suspicious tone in his voice.

"I may or may not have complained about these practices to her before we were friends."

"You tell that girl everything, don't you?"

"Of course; she's my best friend! Aside from you, of course," Kurt recovered, "but we share everything with each other—I mean, who else is she supposed to go to when she's crying over Finn being with Quinn and not liking her and—oh, crap, if you tell her that I told you I'm going to-"

"Relax, Kurt, I hardly talk to Rachel anyway." Blaine laughed, and parked in Kurt's driveway.

"You don't really talk to anyone." Kurt said quietly, surprising himself. He thought that plenty of times, but never thought he'd say it aloud.

Blaine seemed to be surprised as well: he turned to face Kurt, his expression unreadable. "What does that mean?"

"I just…the only people you really talk to are Sam and me. You really don't have many…friends. That's sad, because you're the most amazing person, like, _ever_." Words escaped Kurt like dandelion seeds blowing in the wind as he tried to explain how wonderful Blaine was. He guessed that there weren't any real words to explain Blaine, or what he meant to Kurt. Regardless, Kurt felt a little stupid.

"I think you know why that is—I kind of have trust issues." He answered quietly, and the two of them reflected on the day in the park.

"You can get over that, Blaine. You've gotten over so many obstacles already. I know you can do it. I understand with the Cheerios, because most of the girls are insufferable bitches, but Glee…they're all nice. You've got to open up at least a little bit."

"I'm afraid I'd open up too much; especially on Saturday, since I'm bound to get drunk. I think we all are."

"I guess we're just going to have to monitor our alcohol consumption?"

"Kurt, if I were you, I wouldn't drink anything, or I'd just bring something from home. You're just a freshman, and Santana was adamant in spiking everything. I don't want you getting drunk within your first two months of high school!"

"Oh, so it's perfectly acceptable for a freshman to get a hand-job within his first two months of high school," Kurt replied sardonically, and Blaine sighed in defeat.

"Touché. But come on…" Blaine sent him a toothy grin, and Kurt knew it was time to leave unless the point of ending "practice" early would completely lose its point.

"All right, I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow?" Kurt asked as he leaned over to give Blaine a quick kiss on the cheek, as he felt it was obligatory. Blaine nodded and said goodbye, keeping his eyes on Kurt's figure until he disappeared behind the door.

* * *

Music thumped lightly from the Rachel's house, loud enough to be heard from the doorstep where Kurt and Blaine were standing. Kurt figured that he could just walk inside, since he'd been doing that since he was ten, but Blaine stopped him.

"I just want to clarify that while I'll try to keep it at a one-drink max, I'm not going to keep any promises. Remember that Santana thinks we're rooting for the club, which we have to change by tonight if we don't want to get kicked off. We also have to, you know, act casual."

"Oh God, I'm going to have to duct tape Rachel's mouth shut," Kurt griped, and Blaine gripped his shoulder in a comforting manner, leading him into the house.

"We'll do it together," he responded, and started taking Kurt's coat off for him, oddly reminding him of last Saturday's events.

"I don't think this falls under the definition of 'acting casual', Blaine," Kurt warned him, but Blaine ignored him as he took his coat to the staircase, where a few others were already hanging. He took off his own, revealing a form-fitting striped polo shirt that matched with his fire-hydrant colored pants. A bow tie encircled his collar, the same obnoxious shade of his pants.

"You're very...red," Kurt commented as they started down the stairs, the music growing louder and louder as they descended deeper and deeper into Rachel's basement, "it's almost like I'm back on the field cheering with the Cheerios."

"Shh, that's the whole point. I have to show my loyalty to them, not Glee."

"Don't you think that's a little ridiculous?" Kurt countered. Yes, he was a fashionista at heart and understood that outfits had meaning, but Blaine was taking it above and beyond.

"I think your outfit is ridiculous, personally. I thought we were supposed to act casually around each other?" He mimicked Kurt, who nudged his arm but still felt his face flare. Maybe he shouldn't have worn his tightest pair of pants.

"Part the loser sea, the gays are here!" Santana called out over the music and navigated her way towards them. "Here, have something to drink!" she shoved some beers in their hands and, before walking away to watch Brittany strip down to her undergarments in the corner, said, "Most of them got wasted after one drink. Not the wildest party—Blaine's been to plenty with me, he knows—but it's actually entertaining, watching all of them unwind. Alcohol is a beautiful substance." She turned on her foot and walked away, leaving Kurt and Blaine to their own devices. Blaine shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of his drink; Kurt took a dainty sip, his nose crinkling at the squalid taste.

"You get used to it," Blaine whispered in his ear, "let's go dance, since there doesn't seem to be much else to do."

* * *

"Who's ready for body shots?" Santana shouted over the noise an hour later, and instantly received varied responses, including a wolf-whistle from Puck and a worried cry from Brittany, "Body shots? We're going to shoot each other?!" Most, however, were against it, even in their drunken states.

"Aw, hell no, nobody is worthy enough to lay a hand on _this_!" Mercedes gestured towards her body, and Rachel raised her hand for an encouraging high-five, only to be rejected: "What did I just say, Berry?"

"We do have an uneven number, and it would be difficult getting Artie up there, so..." Finn seemed rather uncomfortable with it, much to Kurt's surprise. He turned to look at Blaine, who actually had a look of interest on his face. He wasn't sure what body shots were, exactly, but he had the idea that it had to do with alcohol and exposing oneself, which he was not about to do in front of the Glee club. He was nearly done with his first (and he hoped it would be his only) drink, and could tell he was already a little off as everything began to feel warm and strange and different. He felt a desire to share these feelings, amongst other not-so-appropriate ones, with Blaine.

They continued to quarrel as to whether they should do it or not, Santana and Puck against many others who were against it and received no help from the neutral (Blaine). Eventually Santana threw her arms up in defeat.

"Fine, fine, you pussies can go back to fifth grade and play Spin the Bottle. Jesus, you losers need to liven up and party some more. Or I should've spiked the drinks with something a little stronger."

This comment was generally ignored, apart from the phrase "Spin the Bottle", since Rachel jumped at that. Apparently in her intoxicated mind, she was back in fifth grade.

"Oh, oh, okay guys, gather 'round and let's play!" She exclaimed after finding her half-empty bottle. She downed the rest and nearly slammed the bottle down touchdown-style.

"She needs to be cut off," Blaine murmured into Kurt's ear while he passed him. Blaine took a seat directly across from him, looking rather put-together aside from his growing mass of untamed curls (they'd somehow escaped the gel) and goofy smile.

"All-righty, then, I go first!" She squealed and spun the bottle. It turned around and around until-

"_Ah_!" She nearly screamed as it nearly landed on Finn, but it inched just a few centimeters to the right and-

"Oh, God, I am _not_ kissing her," Quinn said, repulsed at the idea. Rachel looked equally upset, and also a little green.

"On second thought, I'm going to make a quick trip to the ladies' room. Quinn, you go," she said, and sprinted to the bathroom across the room.

"Thank the Lord I don't have to make contact with that self-absorbed bitch," Quinn laughed along with a few others (Blaine slightly shrugged his shoulders at Kurt, who laughed weakly-it wasn't exactly a lie that Rachel was a self-absorbed bitch) and spun the bottle until it landed on Puck, a new member as of the previous Friday. She blushed a little bit; Finn didn't seem to notice.

"C'mere," Puck said lowly, and they shared a rather intimate kiss-Quinn cut it off rather quickly. "Yeah, my turn!" He exclaimed exuberantly.

A few turns of rather strange kisses later-Puck and Tina, Tina and Sam, Sam and Brittany (Kurt was surprised that daggers didn't actually manifest from Santana's eyes at that one), Kurt was feeling very at ease. He'd caught himself staring at Blaine a few times, daydreaming about a multitude of drunken fantasies...

"Kurt! Come here, Dolphin Boy, I have to kiss you!"

"The kid probably doesn't know how to kiss," Puck joked, earning some laughs from Santana.

Mercedes was not amused. "Kurt's damn cuter than you and your stupid Mohawk, so I'd shut up if I were you," she said, and Puck held up his hands.

Having never _really_ kissed a girl before, Kurt simply leaned towards Brittany and pecked her on the mouth. He didn't feel the need to make a show of it, and anyway, the only person who deserved a real kiss was Blaine.

"Your turn, Kurtie!" Rachel had returned and seemed chipper as ever. Kurt rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname and spun the bottle. It was a little dizzying, watching it go and go and go in that one place for what seemed like ages, until it landed on-

"Oh, no, I am not making out with my soon-to-be-um, brother-in-law!"

"It's step-brother, Finn, and I agree." He looked at Blaine nervously, who was sitting next to Finn.

"Your parents are getting married?!" Mercedes queried with interest.

"Yeah, we'll discuss that later, whatever." Rachel cut her off, trying to direct everyone's attention back to the game. "Let's just pretend that it landed just a liiiiiiittle bit to the left and-" she leaned over and moved the bottle- "aha! You have to kiss _Blaiiinnee_," she stuck her tongue out at Kurt playfully, but he honestly didn't care. He was already a little hard just from simply staring at Blaine's beautiful profile, watching him as he very nearly got picked to kiss Sam-he probably would have melted with envy if it happened. He'd been itching to make physical contact with Blaine all night, and this was his opportunity, so he'd use it as best as he could.

Kurt rapidly crawled over on all fours and kissed Blaine with as much force as he could muster,feeling that _that_ wasn't even enough. He felt the urge to mark Blaine as his and his _only_; no one else was allowed to kiss Blaine in this game.

Blaine automatically moaned underneath him and kissed him back, his hands clutching at Kurt's wiry frame. The alcohol hazed their senses; they seemed to forget that the Glee club was watching them. They kissed passionately for a few more seconds, when they were suddenly brought back down from the clouds by the clearing of a throat.

"Well, well, well, this is an interesting turn of events! Blaine has a boyfriend, and he's got his hands all over Porcelain's ass over here...should I call your '_boyfriend_' up, Blaine?" Santana asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Nope, 'cause he's right here," Blaine answered. His speech was slightly slurred, but he sounded completely happy. He hooked his arm around Kurt's waist and grabbed his drink with his free hand. "This is boring now; let's play Truth or Dare!"

"No, Never Have I Ever, and if you've done it you have to drink," Santana said, and everyone nodded in agreement. "I'll start. Never have I ever been Lady Hummel's boyfriend."

"Oops, you got me!" Blaine laughed and downed some more of his beer, his hand tracing circles on Kurt's back. Kurt wanted to be angry at Blaine, but he just couldn't, since he was the one who pretty much initiated the whole reveal.

"Wait, hold up, hold up," Mercedes said, "how long has this been going on for?"

"Just two weeks, but don't tell anyone, please!" Kurt implored. "There's a reason why we didn't tell you. Not because we don't like you, because-"

"Whatever, we'll have our liar gays spill later. Miss Gold Star, go," Santana said, trying to divert all of the attention from Kurt and Blaine.

"Ahahaha, never have I ever…touched the nick—dick of anyone else in this room! Ohmygod, I can't talk, I'm sorry," Rachel let out another peal of laughter. Brittany immediately lifted her bottle to her lips, and Puck asked, "Does it count if it was by accident in the locker room, like, through clothes or whatever?" Finn: "Dude, no, I think that one time you kicked me in the balls counts."

"Damn, Berry, that was a good one—_Christ_!" Santana said as she watched Blaine mirror her. "After only two weeks?! Wanky! What'd you two do?"

"I thought we were going to spill later." Kurt said quickly. He wasn't sure if he should drink, since he'd felt Blaine pressing against him. Figuring that it didn't count, Kurt looked down at the floor, actually feeling kind of bad for Blaine, since he hadn't exactly reciprocated. He needed to do something about that.

"Hey, can we talk," he murmured to Blaine, grabbing his hand. He nodded and made a surprised sound as Kurt pulled him up, dragging him towards the bathroom across the room. "Excuse us," Kurt said hurriedly to the few heads that turned to watch us.

"So, you want to figure out how—oh my Go-" Kurt cut him off as he shoved him against the closed door, placing his hungry lips on Blaine's parted ones. He tangled his fingers in Blaine's curls and gripped them tightly as he kissed Blaine, eliciting a raunchy moan from the other party. "I wouldn't define this as talking, but it works; oh fuck, _Kurt_," he practically whined as Kurt started undoing his bowtie and immediately attacked his neck once he got it off. His hands returned to Blaine's wild curls after he also unbuttoned his polo, his mouth exploring every inch of visible skin he could find.

"How drunk _are _you?!" Blaine gasped as Kurt shoved his knee in between his spread legs, his thigh brushing against Blaine's growing crotch. "Kurt, I don't want to do anything while we're like this-"

"Oh, shut up, I just want to make this about you," Kurt groaned against Blaine's hot, sweaty skin, "I've never even _touched_ you, for God's sake, and that's _so_ unfair," he slurred, and applied more pressure to Blaine's crotch, reveling in the breathy gasps that followed. "I'm not even that drunk, you looking beautiful and gorgeous and I don't know is just intoxicating, and completely unfair."

"You know what I think is unfair? The fact that you're about to make me come in my pants," Blaine whimpered as Kurt roughly removed his polo, his nipples hardening at the cold air rushing through the overhead vent. Gentle fingertips brushed over them, and Blaine could not take it anymore: he undid his belt and jeans, and Kurt's hand immediately trailed down his bare chest, down his abdomen, down his happy trail, down to the waistband of his boxers—

"You two have been in there long enough, a guy's gotta go when he's gotta go," a familiar voice said, and the door opened, the two of them jumping back. "Oh, _shit_, I-I'm sorry!" Finn shouted in shock as he beheld Kurt and Blaine, equally startled and mortified. Blaine quickly stuffed himself back in his pants, muttering a slew of curses, but Kurt seemed to be just as frozen as Finn was. The door was wide open; everyone could see inside. And that they were.

"Wanky," Santana commented again, and Kurt slammed the door in Finn's face.

* * *

"So what do you want to do about that?" Blaine asked a few minutes later, still very red in the face. He bent down to put his shirt back on, but a hand stopped him.

"No—I'm not done with you. I'm done with this party, but not with you. I'm never done with you." Kurt stated. Blaine stared at Kurt, how he was still breathing hard, how a little bead of sweat was making its way down his forehead, how Kurt was _still as hard as he was._

"So what do you want to do about _that_?" he queried again, only to be silenced by a chaste kiss.

"Where do you want to go?" Kurt asked coyly as he picked up the crumpled polo, sensually placing it in Blaine's hands.

"Anywhere. I just want this to get taken care of—with proper privacy. This could have been a disaster."

"It'll be a disaster if I don't have you come all over my hand within the next ten minutes," Kurt hissed in his ear, and Blaine put on his shirt as quickly as his trembling hands would allow.

_Kurt. Kurt is talking dirty to me. Kurt. Dirty talk. To me. Kurt Kurt _Kurt_._

They scrambled out of the bathroom, saying a quick "_goodbye, we must go, so sorry, great party Rachel, see you all on Monday_," although they weren't sorry, and they weren't even thinking about Monday, they were only focused on what lay ahead in the now.

* * *

Everything became a colorful blur: they almost forgot their coats as they rushed to the car. Before he knew what was happening, he'd somehow opened his car and was on his back in the backseat; Kurt was crawling over him with a coquettish smile playing on his lips, his hands fluttering to the hem of his shirt.

"Please, Kurt, just search within your consciousness for a second, past the alcohol, just…make sure that you want to do this," Blaine asked once his shirt was off, once again exposed to Kurt, "I want to make sure that this doesn't go too far."

"All I said was that I wanted you to come in my _hand_, not in my mouth, or…well, you seemed okay with that on Wednesday," he blushed, realizing just how loose-lipped the alcohol made him. They locked eyes for a few seconds, their blown pupils becoming black holes, siphoning the heavy atmosphere surrounding them.

"Just…fuck, Kurt, keep going," Blaine admonished, trying to avoid the intensity of Kurt's gaze. He was almost thankful that Kurt dropped his gaze to his crotch, repeating his actions from earlier in Rachel's bathroom. _Jesus, I was going to let him jerk me off in Rachel Berry's bathroom. I was going to let them hear me…hear _us_…do something that depraved basically in the same room as the Glee club, with just a little door keeping us from sight—_

His train of thought immediately crashed into a bewildering wave of arousal as Kurt's gentle fingers traced his bare length (_When did that happen? When were my pants and underwear all the way down at my ankles?_); Blaine was sure the club could hear their vulgar, needy breaths from the basement.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Blaine babbled disjointedly as the fingertips continued to brush over him with a controlled placidity. Kurt continued to tease him while mouthing at the base of his throat; Blaine extended his neck and stole a glance at the stars scattered across the black sky, curious little dots of light that were probably dead in the present but continued to leave their imprint in the universe. Lyrics to a distant song ignited in Blaine's mind as he stared up at the glorious beacons:

_"All alone in the corner of the night sky / Spiral bones of a supernova starlight / Fell in love with another burning bright / She dreamed of a way to ignite_…"

"Look at me, Blaine," Kurt breathed shakily, lifted his head from Blaine's throat. His Adam's apple bobbed at the loss of weight as he directed his attention back to Kurt, the stars still blazing in his eyes. Kurt's hand finally constricted around Blaine, gently dragging up and down against his sensitive skin. That wasn't enough to satisfy Blaine's need: he immediately responded, all of his thoughts floating to the sky, dissipating into the dark before they could reach the cosmos.

_"She said, / 'Tonight / Come on, come on / Collide / Break me to pieces, I / I think you're just like heaven…'"_

Words continued to escape him, Blaine, except for a "yes, just like that," as Kurt tightened his grip. This was so much better than being confined in his room with just some tissues, lube (only used when he was feeling extremely adventurous), and his memory of Kurt, an intangible whisper of his voice, his appearance, his scent, and most recently, his heavenly taste, a ghost that could hardly compare to the tangible. Soon enough his hips bucked up to meet the closed fist, a conflagration beginning to spread from the touch of Kurt's hand throughout Blaine's veins. It sparked from their locked gazes, their eyes only flickering away to watch their bodies touch.

_"'Why / Come on, come on / Collide / Let's see what a fire feels like / I bet it's just like heaven…'"_

He could feel that familiar twisting feeling, the fire plaguing his body pooling into his core. Blaine grabbed Kurt's face and brought it down to meet his in a sloppy kiss, just needing to feel something somewhere other than the painful throbbing of his cock. Kurt moaned against his lips, his tongue sneaking through to fuck into his mouth in a similar motion to what was going down below them, nearly sending Blaine over the edge.

"'_Just like heaven_,'" Blaine groaned as Kurt quickened his pace; Blaine was hardly able to keep up. He could feel himself falling apart, falling into space, colliding with the stars…

"Fuck, Blaine, just like I asked you before; come on my hand, please," Kurt begged, his voice husky and low and _so damn hot_, and Blaine finally let go, keening as he spilled onto Kurt and his stomach. He could see and feel the stars cutting into his skin, his mind, his eyes—the stars were Kurt. Everything was Kurt: it was the word that fell from his lips as he came.

As the lights died away, he fell back on the car seat, completely exhausted. "That was definitely the best orgasm I've ever had, oh, _Kurt_," he breathed, not sure of what to say. He blinked a few times, just to make sure that Kurt was really there in front of him. Kurt confirmed his existence by kissing him slowly, carefully, trying not to break him. "I'm in no state to drive, shit," he observed nonchalantly: Blaine knew that was quite a problem, but he didn't really care.

"I think I can. The alcohol's definitely wearing off, since I didn't drink as much as you," he said smugly, knowing that Blaine went over his one-drink limit, "and my house is just a few minutes away. We could stop there until you're all settled and then you can go home," Kurt's voice trailed off a little bit at the end, disheartened at the thought of Blaine leaving his side.

"Okay," Blaine's voice involuntarily cracked while Kurt traced the lines of his muscles in his arm. "The, um, the tissues are in the-" Unable to finish, Blaine flicked his head in their general direction, and Kurt nodded. He winced as he got up from being cramped in the same position for the longest time. Blaine wanted to lie there for ages, reveling in the pleasure that Kurt just gave him, but knew it was time to get up and leave. The night had to end at some point.

* * *

"Dad?" Kurt called cautiously as he entered the house a few minutes later with Blaine right behind him. They'd arrived safely: Kurt, thankfully, was a decent driver. "Carole?" No answer. "I guess they're out. So…if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a shower—you can take one after me if you'd like," he said shyly, and Blaine nodded, "so I guess you can make yourself comfortable, watch some TV, I don't know." He gestured towards the couch. "I won't be long."

"Okay." Blaine did as Kurt instructed and sat on the couch and turned the television on, but did not watch it: his eyes followed Kurt, who retreated downstairs, and then come back upstairs a few minutes later with some clothes. _So that's where his bedroom is_, Blaine thought as he realized that he'd never been to Kurt's house before. It was a strange realization, since the house had such a familiar feeling to it.

The shower turned on somewhere in the house, and Blaine shifted slightly, turning the volume of the television a little lower. _Kurt is naked somewhere in this house_, he thought, and found that he was laughing. He'd already seen Kurt naked before—he was being stupid.

Blaine got up, unable to be still. He wandered around the room and looked at many pictures of family members and—

The face of a young boy, maybe five or six years old, was staring up at the camera, his lips curled into a large smile, his piercing blue eyes scrunched up and _happy_. The freckles splayed across his nose were slightly blurred, since he was so close to the camera. A gentle, feminine hand was in the frame, fixing the part of his hair. A certain curiosity urged Blaine to open the frame and look at the back of the picture, since it usually held information about the picture. He did as his instinct told him, and found that he was right: a date was scribbled on the back—May, about ten years ago—along with "_Taken by Elizabeth_." Blaine stared at the script for a while longer, and then put the frame back together and placed it back where he found it.

There were many other pictures of Kurt: Kurt as a baby, Kurt having tea with his father (Blaine laughed at that one; just the thought of Mr. Hummel at a tea party was ridiculous), Kurt at dance class in a pink leotard (Blaine was definitely going to tease him about that), Kurt with Rachel, singing together in what Blaine assumed to be Kurt's room, Kurt graduating fifth grade, Kurt giving a big thumbs-up while in the audience of a playhouse, Kurt working on a car with Burt…

"Shower's open—oh, why are you looking at _that_?!" Kurt sprinted over to Blaine, who was observing a picture of Kurt singing on stage, wearing a ragged costume. "That was last year; I was in _Oliver!_—that was an awful experience." He took the frame out of Blaine's hands and put it on the table nearby. "Here, I've got a towel and some clothes in case you want to change. Follow me," he said, and Blaine trailed after him. The bathroom was on the other side of the house: Blaine took the opportunity to peruse as much as he could of Kurt's abode. It was then that he realized why the house seemed so familiar—it felt like a proper home.

"All right, I'll be in the kitchen fixing something to drink. Tea or coffee?" Kurt queried after Blaine got into the bathroom, placing the towel and clothes on the counter.

"Tea," Blaine said, "and thanks…for everything." He added. The door closed behind him, and he immediately began to undress, thankful that he could finally get properly cleaned. Once he was completely stripped down, he got to the shower and realized he had no idea how to even turn it on. After tinkering with it for a few minutes, he gave up and wrapped the towel around his waist, feeling kind of silly since Kurt had basically just seen him nude.

"Kurt?" He called out tentatively, and heard some footsteps in reply.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, and Blaine opened the door, one hand on the towel. Kurt's eyes widened slightly at the sight.

"I—I can't figure out the shower," he said stupidly, and Kurt laughed, still looking Blaine up and down.

"Oh, sorry, I should've showed you," Kurt said nervously, and walked in, stepping over the pile of Blaine's clothes on the floor. Blaine hovered over him as he turned it on. "This is how you change the temperature; this is how you turn it off. Got it?" He turned to face Blaine, who kissed him. "What was that for?" Kurt asked, trying to sound irritated but Blaine could tell that he liked it. Blaine himself didn't know why he responded that way.

"Just another way of saying 'thank you', I guess," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, then…" Kurt backed out of the room and waved his fingers. Blaine waved back—with the hand that was keeping his towel up. It fell to the floor, and Kurt stared for a millisecond before closing the door again.

It wasn't until Blaine poured some liquid soap—soap that smelled so much like Kurt—that he had another realization. He felt like he was at home, with Kurt. Like it was _their _home. He smiled at the wall, a frivolous feeling ballooning in his stomach.

* * *

"So this is your room," Blaine said as they sat on Kurt's bed ten minutes later. They'd finished their tea after Blaine had his shower, and Kurt had suggested that they go downstairs.

"Yep. What do you think?" Kurt asked, straightening out the sheet beside him.

"It's very…you. It looks like you." He inhaled. "It smells like you."

"…thanks?" They laughed, and then lapsed into silence.

"I'll turn on some music, is that okay?" Kurt said, not knowing what else to do. He didn't even know what they were waiting for anymore.

"Mhmmm," Blaine nodded, lying back on his bed. Kurt strode across the room and put on some classical music CD he'd found for a few bucks at a garage sale. The violin quietly sang while he turned around and found Blaine dozing off on his bed, his head resting on one of Kurt's pillows. _Oh, God,_ Kurt gasped internally. _What am I going to do?_

"Blaine, Blaine, wake up," he shook him as he slid onto the bed. Blaine groaned in response. "I guess…you wanna spend the night?" It was a good thing that Blaine changed into the worn Buckeyes shirt and long sweatpants he'd supplied him with.

"Yeah," Blaine murmured. Kurt could feel himself drifting off as well—exhaustion crept over him like a lion finally catching its prey.

"All right, then," he said shakily, "I'm—I'm going to lift the sheets so you can get in," there were sleeping bags upstairs, but he didn't want to get one. He couldn't leave Blaine on the floor…or himself.

Blaine happily obliged, and Kurt got up to turn off the music and the lights. All of his cares slipped away into thin air as he retreated back to his bed.

"Are you too hot? Cold? Do you-"

"Shhh," Blaine said, pressing a finger to Kurt's lips. "I wanna sleep."

"Me too," Kurt whispered against Blaine's lips. His eyelids were drooping; he could feel himself falling into darkness… "'Night, Blaine."

"Good night, Kurt," Blaine said, becoming more and more aware of their situation. He was in a bed. With Kurt. Sleeping. With Kurt. Well, not really, but still.

He couldn't hold in his feelings anymore. Not when they've come this far, when they've shared things he never thought he'd ever be able to share.

"Kurt, I—I love…" he was interrupted by a sigh: Kurt had fallen asleep.

"Good night," he repeated, and let his eyelids close, letting his final picture of a peaceful Kurt sink into his mind as it drifted into nothingness.

* * *

The pounding on the stairs, the intense light shining through his closed eyes, the loud shout penetrating through his sleep:

"Care to explain, Kurt?"

* * *

A/N: I never expected this chapter to be this long...for the longest time, I didn't even know where it was going. A lot of stuff happened and I kind of got writer's block, so yeah.

The song lyrics are from "Cassiopeia" by Sara Bareilles-aside from Darren Criss, she is my favorite singer. This fic is actually entitled after her song "Uncharted".

Reminder that you can find me on tumblr; my url is championisjustatitle...I've been chatting with some fans of my other fic, "Until Next Time", which has been absolutely awesome.

Another reminder that reviews are greatly appreciated, and thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh my _God_," Kurt groaned, trying to move his hands so he could rub his eyes to subdue the pain from the light, but found that he couldn't—Blaine had his arms draped around him, his breath tickling Kurt's neck. _Shit, shit, shit,_ Kurt thought. _This looks a lot worse than it is, oh, _fuck_._

"It's not what it looks like," Kurt said quickly, realizing that his voice was quite raspy. It pounded in his brain, which felt like mush. "I—I forgot to tell you that…that Blaine was sleeping over after the party," he explained; somehow he could function enough to lie. "We were so tired that I figured we could, um, we could share." He tried to unobtrusively move Blaine's arms; thankfully, he successfully got them off, but not without waking Blaine up.

"Hey, ba-" he said sleepily, trying to wrap his arms around Kurt again. Kurt immediately shifted away and interrupted Blaine before his father heard anything he shouldn't.

"What time is it, Dad?" He asked Burt, saying the first thing that popped into his mind and surreptitiously let Blaine know that someone else was in the room. Blaine seemed to take the hint, as he swiftly moved to the other side of the bed.

"About 9:30—there's a clock right next to you, kid. I figured I gave you enough time to sleep. When did you get back?"

"I think it was after ten. When did you get back?" Kurt countered.

"Eleven. Carole and I went…out." He ducked his head in—embarrassment?

"I don't need the details."

"Okay. I just did not appreciate coming home to see a different car in my driveway. I came down and saw that it was just, erm, you two, so I decided not to…interrupt."

"No no no, Mr. Hummel, there is nothing going on between us." Blaine finally piped up. He sat up in the bed, his hair a frizzy mess.

"Isn't that Kurt's shirt?" Burt asked suspiciously as the sheets fell from Blaine's body, revealing a faded Buckeyes logo stretched across his chest. Kurt wanted to crawl under his sheets and sink into his mattress so he could disappear from sight.

"No, sir, this is mine. I'm a football fan—I love the Buckeyes." Blaine said, and Kurt let out a sigh of relief at his boyfriend's quickness. However, bringing football into the equation meant that Burt would not leave until they discussed the last ten seasons and every single play and player and every little detail about the team.

"Okay, Dad, you can go now," Kurt ushered him out, waving his hands, "I'm not going to listen to you two freak out about that dumb sport in my presence."

"Fine, fine. Carole made pancakes in case you two are interested," he added before he closed the door of the basement.

"She stayed over again?!" Kurt groaned in exasperation. "Can't they just wait until they're married?"

"C'mon, Kurt; just because she stayed over doesn't mean that they had sex." Blaine laughed a little at the irony, and Kurt joined him. He flipped over on his side to face Blaine, amazed at how different he looked in the morning just after waking up. He had a sleepy look in his eyes, blinking languidly every so often so his eyelashes brushed his cheeks for a millisecond longer than normal. His hair was absolutely ridiculous, and if Blaine wasn't so tired, he would probably sprint into the bathroom to search for some hair gel. The sight was easy on Kurt's eyes, a nice change from the overbearing light that stabbed at his brain. Everything seemed to stab at his brain.

"Oh God, I'm hungover," he stated. "Is it obvious?"

"Not really—unless you start throwing up. Then we might have a problem. Do you feel okay?"

"Aside from my head, yeah. Are _you_ okay?" He asked Blaine, knowing that he drank a lot more the night before.

"Yeah; I have a higher tolerance than you. Party animal over here, remember?" He cracked a dumb smile, and Kurt gave a half-hearted laugh. "You wanna go upstairs and eat pancakes?"

"That sounds awesome." They got up from the bed; Blaine shuffled over towards Kurt and engulfed him in a hug. "What's this for?" He queried, although he didn't reject the embrace.

"Because I'm feeling cuddly this morning, and you look adorable right now," Blaine replied into the crook of Kurt's neck and placed a soft kiss there.

"Blaine," Kurt said warningly as Blaine nuzzled his way up to Kurt's cheek, his lips nearing his own. "I think right now is the perfect time to eat breakfast." He broke from Blaine's hold and started towards the stairs.

"Good morning, boys," Carole said as they emerged in the kitchen to the welcoming smell of pancakes, "take as many as you'd like; there's plenty here! Finn is coming soon, though, so make sure that you leave at least ten for him." She laughed as they sat at the table, where Burt was reading the newspaper, and started to dig in.

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson." Blaine said, his mouth nearly watering as he dropped three large ones on his plate. He then grabbed the syrup and smothered them in the sugary substance.

"Oh my God, Blaine," Kurt laughed; Blaine did not stop pouring the syrup until all of his pancakes were completely covered in it.

"What, are you judging our love?" Blaine teased, holding the bottle near his cheek and a brushing its slim neck with his lips, rather similarly to what he had done to Kurt's neck just a few minutes ago.

"That's the worst excuse for a love affair that I've ever seen! It's just…sugar!" Kurt snatched it from his hands and drizzled a little on the side of his plate.

"It's much sweeter than you, jeez," Blaine mumbled with some pancake in his mouth, "much better partner for a love affair." Kurt choked on his food, and Blaine realized what he said. He mouthed "sorry" while Kurt recovered.

"Hey, Blaine," Burt did not seem to notice what had just happened as he peeked up at the houseguest over the paper, "do you want to stay for dinner? We're planning on checking out this art gallery in town today, and Carole's making dinner…Finn's coming with Quinn, so I figured that you and Kurt-"

"We're not together, Dad," Kurt said quickly. _Damn it, if Blaine says yes, today's going to be a l-o-n-g day._

"Yes, Kurt, I know. I just figured you wouldn't want to, what do you call it, 'third wheel it?'"

Blaine sniggered. "For Kurt's sake, I'll say yes. I wouldn't want him to be a third wheel."

"No, Dad, that's going to make it more awkward, because then it'll look like a—a triple date, but it isn't one." Kurt glared at Blaine, who shrugged his shoulders.

The doorbell rang; Mrs. Hudson jumped and rushed to the door. "Finn's here!" she shouted. Kurt winced at the sudden increase in volume. _Ow. Ow. Ow. _Blaine was hunched over his food, looking rather nervous. Kurt soon understood why.

"Hi Kurt. Oh, Blaine, you stayed over? Everyone was wondering where you went off. Sorry that I walked in on you guys last night. Is that why you left? We were talking about how dumb we were to not notice that you two were going out…I mean, you've basically been unseparable these past few weeks. Isn't it obvious, Burt?"

Burt clenched and unclenched his jaw. "It's 'inseparable', Finn. _Inseparable_. I guess it is pretty obvious, isn't it, Kurt?" He raised his eyebrow at Kurt, who felt very small in his seat; he was sure that his face was a violent shade of scarlet.

"I think I'll go home now, Mr. Hummel. Thanks for-"

"Oh no, I think it's best that you spend the rest of the day with us. Why don't you go into the other room and call your parents; I'm sure that they're worried sick about you. Kurt and I are going to have a little chat."

Kurt could feel Blaine's eyes on him as he left, but he kept his eyes glued to his father. Finn sat down beside them and began to wolf down his filled plate. He was completely oblivious to the situation, and the fact that Kurt was internally cursing him off.

"So, Kurt, when were you going to tell me?"

"I wanted to tell you, I did, but…I couldn't. No one was supposed to find out until after football season ended. Or later—we haven't really discussed it. I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't want you to find out this way."

"What, to find you two _in bed _together?"

"No, no, no, it wasn't what it looked like!" Kurt thought his skin would melt off, he was blushing so furiously. "We didn't…_do_…anything," he thanked in whatever higher power was probably looking over him at that particular moment, since Finn had left the table to get some more pancakes and didn't seem to hear a word of their conversation. "I did mean what I said that I was too tired to get something for him to sleep on, and I didn't want to leave him on the floor. He wasn't in the best state to go home, so I had to. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…you've got to believe me, _please."_

"You didn't _have _to do anything, Kurt." His father said in an accusatory tone, and paused; Kurt did feel like he was going to throw up during the silence. "But I believe you. Understand this: one, this is never happening again. There must be at least one other person in the house while you two are here, and I won't let you go to Blaine's house unless his parents are present. No sleepovers. Two, you're grounded for a week for not telling me, starting tomorrow. And three…I'm glad it's Blaine. I guess it _was_ pretty obvious."

"Can I come back in?" Blaine was waiting by the doorway, stashing his phone in his pocket. Burt nodded and Blaine took his seat.

"So, I think you boys owe me an explanation."

* * *

A few hours later, Kurt and Blaine were sitting together on a bench in a room full of paintings. They'd picked up Quinn on the way to the gallery. She was hanging on Finn's arm, laughing as he struggled to pronounce the artists' last names and so on.

"Did you notice how Quinn kept looking at Puck last night? I've always kind of thought that she wasn't the best for Finn, but if she's cheating on him…"

"That's because you used to have a crush on him," Blaine poked his side; Kurt slapped him indignantly, "but no, I didn't see that, because my eyes were on this other person in the room." He grinned, and Kurt grinned back.

"And who is this 'other person'?" Kurt queried, playing along.

"Well, he's kind of beautiful. Not kind of—really, just…stunning. He's got soft chestnut hair and this cute little nose and these _eyes_ that I can easily get lost in—and his lips, I could just kiss them over and over again."

Kurt ducked his head so Blaine couldn't see his smile. "Do you think he likes you?" He asked when he finally found his voice.

Blaine paused. "I don't know, I think I'd need to kiss him to know." He looked at Kurt with pleading eyes, and he simply couldn't resist: he leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"C'mon, I think we've been sitting for too long. Let's look at more paintings!" Kurt jumped up and dragged Blaine along with him, stepping in front of a portrait of a woman.

"Damn, I guess that Advil worked wonders on you. Or my lips." Kurt slapped him again; Blaine shut his mouth, but continued to peruse the art with a smug smile. "You know," he said a little later as they stopped in front of a painting of a rather aggressive ocean, "I think we should slow down a bit. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret what we've done at all, but…"

"But what?" Kurt asked, not understanding where exactly this was all coming from.

"You're young, Kurt. I don't want to continue corrupting you like this. And high school is only going to get harder from here—hell, I'm a junior, Kurt. I need to think about college now. I have the PSATs soon, which I need to ace because I need a scholarship, and then the SATs in the spring, and not to mention all of my classes are quickly becoming impossible…"

"So you want to…take a break?" Kurt said, only able to use the euphemism. They'd only been together for a few weeks, and now he couldn't envision them apart.

"No, no, no; that would only make this year worse. I just think we're going too fast—at least we are physically. I want to be able to enjoy this, not let it all fly by. I was just thinking last night, and I don't want to say or do anything that I'll look back on later and be like, 'hey, I wish I waited.'"

"But you said yourself that college is coming up soon, and you're _graduating _next year…" Kurt quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He did not want to think about Blaine leaving.

"We have plenty of time, Kurt. We still have a bunch of firsts to experience, and while I'm excited to cross them off, I think it's important that we wait. And while he seems okay with our relationship, I don't want your dad to walk in on anything."

The image passed through Kurt's mind for a split second. "Okay, okay, yes, I agree," he said quickly, praying that nothing like that ever happened. Deep down, however, he knew that it was a whole-hearted pact. Blaine was right.

"Okay. I'm glad we're on the same page." He snaked his arm around Kurt's waist and placed his hand on his waist, bringing their hips together. "Although I do like the idea of having a weekly make-out session on Wednesday. Let's face it, those practices really are pointless."

"Sounds like a plan," Kurt replied, and together they walked into the next room, where Burt and Carole were standing in a similar position. There were only a few other people in the gallery, so it was as if the Hummels and Hudsons had it to themselves.

"Speaking of planning, how is the wedding coming along?" Blaine asked, and Kurt sighed happily.

"It's great. They're basically giving me free reins…of course, there's a budget, so I can't do a wedding like Kim and Kris Humphries…actually, I wouldn't want to do a wedding like that, since they were only married for a few months. And my dad and Carole wouldn't want something over-the-top. Anyway, it's going to be in December, and I've got a nice venue booked and all of the details are starting to come together. It's going to be perfect."

"My boyfriend, a fifteen-year-old wedding planner. How many guests?"

"Not many. Close family friends, the Glee club, since my dad wants us to sing there—you, of course, if you'd like to accompany me as my date…"

"I thought you'd never ask," Blaine said and pecked him on the cheek. Of course Burt had to come at that exact moment.

"Erm, do you kids want to start heading back?" His father said awkwardly. The two of them broke apart instantly. "It's just that Carole needs to start prepping dinner, so…"

"Yeah, yeah…I'll go get Finn and Quinn," Kurt responded and took Blaine's hand. They shuffled away, both of their cheeks flaring.

"At least it was just on the cheek, c'mon, don't be so embarrassed," Blaine muttered as they searched through the labyrinthine gallery for the other couple.

"Why don't you take a look at your red face and tell me you aren't embarrassed as well!" Kurt whispered angrily. Blaine ignored him and walked towards the end of the room they had just entered, where Finn and Quinn were admiring a painting of a battle scene.

"Hey, we're going to leave soon," Blaine said to the two, and they turned to see Kurt and Blaine holding hands in front of them.

"Cool, I'm starving!" Finn said excitedly; they began to head out towards the front of the building together.

"You're _always _hungry, Finn," Quinn pointed out, and they laughed. "Anyway, you go ahead; I want to chat with my fellow Cheerios here." Finn gave her a confused look, but respected her wishes and left.

She glanced at the two of them and put her hands on her hips. "You know that Coach would probably kill you if she found out that you two were dating. She'd revoke your captainship, Blaine, and Kurt would probably be kicked off."

"And you're telling us this because…?" Blaine asked, and Quinn grinned.

"Well, someone would have to take the captain's spot, wouldn't they? Coach Sylvester did tell me it was a very tough decision between the two of us…anyway, I think she's already upset with you, since you've become such a softie recently."

Blaine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You used to be a dick to everyone; Coach's little tyrant. She loved that. Now you've become a lot easier and you've been letting Coach do all of the bitching. If you keep this act up then you're definitely going to lose your title—and everyone knows that I'm the queen bitch at this school."

Blaine glared at her, and Kurt saw a flash of Cheerios-Captain-Blaine: insolent, stubborn, jackass, _leader_. "I guess I have been slacking a bit, Quinn. She still hasn't kicked me out, has she, though? No. Thanks for the heads up; I guess I'm going to have to work twice as hard to make sure that I whip your asses every day. I _will _win us a title at Nationals—the first place title. I'm sure that I can easily convince Coach that we can do it without you, so I think we can drop this discussion right now and go." He turned on his heel and left Kurt and Quinn staring after him. Eventually they recovered and followed him out of the building, where Finn, Burt, and Carole were waiting for them.

Quinn remained silent for the rest of the night.

* * *

"So, Blaine, you like football?" Burt took another bite of his chicken, and Kurt groaned. He knew right as dinner started that sports talk would soon follow. Of course, Blaine had changed into another one of Kurt's dejected football shirts. Kurt found that he couldn't really complain, since it was a little small on him—it stretched nicely against Blaine's muscles. He sat across from Blaine at the table; they'd started playing footsie without anyone noticing. At least he hoped that he'd kicked the leg of the table instead of his father's leg that one time he missed.

"Yeah, I do, actually. I don't like playing, but watching it is always fun. My family gets season tickets; if you and Kurt would like to come, I'm sure we could accommodate you two." Kurt kicked him hard in the shin: Blaine winced.

"I'd love to come, but Kurt hates football. He always hides away in his room and plays his music extra loud when I've got a game playing up here." Everyone laughed, except for Kurt.

"Well, I've got to drown out you shouting at the TV somehow!" he insisted. "Take him, Blaine, it'd be nice to finally have the house to myself for a night."

"Actually, Carole and I have been meaning to tell you that…" Burt paused and looked at Carole, who gave him an encouraging nod, "we're looking at a new house. For the four of us—you, me, Carole, and Finn. There's one a little closer to your school that we like, and we're hoping that you can come with us to the open house to check it out."

Kurt didn't know what to say. He'd grown up in this house—he couldn't imagine saying goodbye to it. He had a feeling something like this would result from his father getting remarried, since it would be difficult to fit two more people in the house. Still, there was something exciting about moving into a new house—perhaps his father and Carole would put him in charge of decorating it.

He looked up to see Blaine frowning at him. _Oh yeah. I'll be farther away from him._ It was wildly convenient being within walking distance of Blaine (even if it was a rather long walk).

"There aren't any houses in this neighborhood for sale?" He asked, and Blaine's face brightened.

"There's one, but it's a little pricey, since it was built two years ago, and it's a little larger than our ideal home."

_Right, that's the one just a few doors down from Blaine's house!_ He didn't want to pressure his dad into buying something as big as a _house _just for his son—that was selfish, and stupid.

"All of this house talk is boring. Quinn, Blaine, Kurt, how's cheerleading going?" Carole asked, and Quinn glanced at Blaine, who smiled.

"It's going swimmingly, Mrs. Hudson. I think we've got Nationals in the bag, knock on wood," he proceeded with the superstition, "although I think some of the girls need some improvement, don't you, Quinn?" She nodded curtly, trying to glare at him from under her bangs without being too blatant. "Kurt's also working _very hard _at his extra practices. Sometimes it catches me off-guard how _good _he is—_ow!_" _Oops. Maybe that was a little _too _much._

"Are you okay?" Burt asked; everyone was flummoxed by Blaine's outburst.

"Yeah…I just, um…bit my tongue."

"Oh yeah, that hurts so much." Finn agreed. "No, it's the worst when you burn your tongue. I did that yesterday; it still feels cottony today."

"Finn?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Please be quiet and eat your dinner."

"Okay."

* * *

The next week was relatively uneventful for Kurt and Blaine—Thursday, however, was a nightmare.

"Kurt, Blaine, you've been avoiding us all week. Where did you go after you left Rachel's party?" Mercedes queried the second the two of them entered the choir room.

"That's precisely why we've been avoiding you—although you've made that impossible because you've basically been stalking us for the past few days!" Kurt threw up his hands in defeat as he took his seat. "It's none of your business."

"Actually, Blaine stayed over at Kurt's house." Rachel practically sang as she sat down in next to them after finishing her pre-warm up-warm up. "Finn told me when we…when we rehearsed our duet yesterday."

"Rachel Berry, are you blushing? And _damn_," Mercedes raised an eyebrow at them.

"How many times am I going to have to say we didn't do anything?!" Kurt said exasperatedly.

"That's not what it looked like when you two were in the bathroom together," Tina murmured from behind them; Blaine spat out the water he was drinking.

"We are never, ever, _ever _mentioning that again," Kurt said, heat rising to his cheeks, "at least not in my presence. And Rachel's blushing because she likes Finn and something happened yesterday that she _won't tell me about_," Kurt knew that she was going to murder him, but it was worth it. As long as she told him the thing she was freaking out about over text yesterday before she slit his throat, it would be worth it.

Rachel hit him multiple times while the other girls broke into heated gossip. "You will pay for that, Hummel!"

"Come on, it's obvious that you like Finn from that dreamy-eyed look you get whenever you watch him play the drums. Seriously, though, what happened?"

"Wait, something happened?" Santana asked as she arrived with Brittany; Quinn trailed behind them with Finn. "Did you guys find Porcelina and Gay Boy Wonder sucking each other off in here or-"

"Shut up, Santana!" Blaine shouted; Kurt did want Rachel to kill him in that moment. _Is that going to be our legacy? Ugh._

"What's going on?" Mr. Schue entered the room, completely unaware of everything that just occurred.

"A lot. A lot is going on—it's better that you didn't ask." Artie said, and Mr. Schue nodded—the room was abuzz with chatter. Eventually he quieted down the room and started the rehearsal.

"Anyway, I heard that you guys had a little get-together last Saturday. Team bonding is great. You guys had a good time?"

"I know Kurt and Blaine did," Rachel piped up quickly, and for a split second Kurt truly did contemplate murder.

It was going to be a long rehearsal.

* * *

A/N: I know it's a shorter chapter; I just need to figure out how to go from here...don't worry, I have some ideas. :)

I don't normally do this, but I have a fic rec: Gilded Cage by canarian, if you're not already reading it. I've always loved historical fiction, so an amazingly-written historical fiction AU about my favorite pairing is like heaven for me.

I know I sound like a broken record, but reviews are absolutely lovely. Thanks for reading & I'll be back with another chapter soon!


	13. Chapter 13

October soon transitioned into November, and winter weather was soon upon them-Kurt awoke one morning to find a light dusting of snow on the ground, much to his surprise. He was thankful that the football season had just come to a close, but could not believe how quickly his freshman year was passing by. He was already three months into his high school career. The Glee club was prospering, the Cheerios were entering into basketball season (and had started with hard-core preparations for Nationals), and, as Blaine predicted, school was getting harder. His teachers were rather generous with homework and projects, and Kurt was struggling with the weight of the workload in addition to the demands of Glee and cheer. Sometimes it seemed like he was the titan Atlas, carrying the weight of the earth on his young shoulders.

Glee had nearly crushed him, as they'd recently competed in Sectionals. There was an extreme amount of pressure on the club to get first: the existence of New Directions existed on it, since Coach Sylvester had thrown a fit about the fact that the cost of transportation for the Glee club had taken a miniscule amount of money from her fund for Nationals. She'd barged into Glee's final rehearsal for Sectionals to complain for ten minutes about the fact that each of her Cheerios had to pay an extra forty-five cents to pay for the airfare to Nationals. Evidently, the lost time had no effect on their performance, as New Directions placed first and were moving on to Regionals. Even the Cheerios seemed pleased with their placement: the entire group celebrated at Breadstix afterwards.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, Kurt and the rest of the girls in Glee Club (sans Santana, Brittany, and Quinn, as they did not want any association with the "untouchables" of McKinley) were at Rachel's house for a sleepover. Kurt could hardly move his body out of soreness, as Coach had kept the Cheerios an extra hour for an intense workout earlier that day, and took Blaine, Kurt, Brittany, Santana, and Quinn for an additional half-hour for helping the enemy succeed. She revoked the girls' tanning privileges for the rest of the semester (Blaine was already tan enough, and Kurt was already forbidden from tanning, as that would defeat the purpose of his nickname). She made Kurt and Blaine stay and organize files in her office, which led to them hastily stealing kisses whenever she'd leave the room to berate whoever happened to pass by. When she returned, they'd go back to ignoring each other, trying to get the tedious job completed as quickly as possible so they could run back into Blaine's car and be able to satisfy their needs without interruption.

_Blaine_. The name was the resilient foundation that kept him grounded, it was the soft zephyr that sent it tumbling down into nothingness, it was the cement that put it all back together again: it was _everything_. Kurt worshipped the few seconds he'd see Blaine smiling at him while he walked to third period; he counted down the minutes until Cheerios practice so he'd be in the same room as Blaine for two hours. Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday were his favorite days of the week.

"Wake up, Kurt—you're getting that dreamy look again," Rachel slapped him, bringing his consciousness back into her bedroom where Mercedes and Tina were on Rachel's laptop, perusing Facebook and stalking the people they hated.

"Hmmm? What look?" Kurt shifted so he could get a better view of the screen, where the girls were currently giggling at some rather unattractive shots of a fellow Cheerio. He would've laughed as well, but his eyes immediately found Blaine in the background—it was a little disconcerting that he recognized his boyfriend so well from behind.

"That look you get after seeing Blaine on the way to science class. It's like that look you get when we're watching those bootlegged videos of _Wicked _and we pause the video just to take a much-needed moment to calm ourselves down before 'Defying Gravity'…except dopier."

"You guys are so in love. It's adorable." Tina commented, and Kurt nearly fell off of the bed.

"We're—no—um," Kurt sputtered. There it was. The _l-word._

"Oh, are we talking about Lover Boy's little friend?" Mercedes inquired, and immediately pulled up Blaine's profile. "Ah, look, he was interviewed for the Western Ohio newspaper about being one of the athletes of the year—his aunt posted it on his wall, how sweet!"

"Wait, he didn't tell me about that." Actually, it was all Blaine could talk about two weeks ago when the interviewer took him aside after their last game and asked him a few questions. He'd asked Kurt to help him with taking headshots while they cleaned up in the bathroom a few days later after practice, and Kurt did—he balled up some paper towels and threw them at Blaine's head. After that, Blaine stopped bugging him about it. Regardless of how irritating he was about it, Kurt was proud of Blaine, and was rather upset that he didn't notify him that the article was the headline of the sport's section.

It was short and sweet, where Blaine described what being a captain was like ("'Having to lead so many girls…'" _Hey, I'm a boy—and his boyfriend! _"'…and prepare them for Nationals while juggling school and my other extracurricular activities can be really tough at times, but it's worth it'"), what his plans were to get the Cheerios another huge trophy ("'Work, work, work. You can't just have a vision. It has to be a collaborative yearning for a necessity—we're all talented individually, but cheerleading isn't an individual sport. We've got to improve together as a team, work hard every day, and I expect to take home another Nationals title this spring'"), and what it's like working with a bunch of girls ("[Laughs] 'Well, considering that I'm not exactly on their team, it's fine…it's not like that one movie where those guys go to a cheerleading camp to get with girls, no…all of the girls are great to work with…'" _Lies! _"'…but I don't think I would be able to handle all of the estrogen without having another guy on the squad. Sometimes it feels like Kurt is the only one who helps keep me sane!'"). All of the girls and Kurt finished reading at different times, but they all sighed when they got to the part where Kurt was mentioned.

"Damn, why don't you two just go public already? It's been a month! I don't see why this must be so _complicated_," Mercedes said as she continued scrolling through Blaine's profile, "See? Here's a picture of you two together at Rachel's party a few weeks ago—look me in the eyes and tell me it doesn't look like you're together." Kurt grimaced—he was practically in Blaine's lap, and a conspicuous pale hand was resting on his waist. They really couldn't get any more puke-worthy than that.

Kurt groaned. "It does have to be complicated, Mercedes. If Coach finds out, she'll kick us off and scalp us, and…and I'm kind of afraid to."

He'd never admitted it aloud before, but the thought had crossed his mind very often. The girls scooted closer to him with concerned looks on their faces. He sighed and then continued.

"Lately, before Cheerios practice, and sometimes in the halls…I don't know, some of the football players kind of…look at me weird. Like, now they kind of know who I am, since we're well into first semester, and they've been seeing me around more. When we don't have Cheerios practice, I wear clothes that are fabulous and they can't seem to accept it: that kid Karofsky shoved me against a locker last week and tore my sweater a little. I mean, that wasn't that big of a deal, since it was already ripped up, but what if he gets his hands on any of my Marc Jacobs shirts?" He tried to lighten the situation, but failed. "Anyway…I don't want to drag Blaine into it. He's already in trouble because he's out, but his title as Cheerios captain protects him. Football players know they can't screw with Coach Sylvester's prized possessions, and Blaine is precious to her. But if they find out he's with _me_…he's fair game." Kurt decided not to mention Blaine's problems with bullies before, even if it was the biggest reason why he felt this way.

Tina scoffed: "Oh, come on, Kurt. Blaine is strong—I saw him boxing the other day in the wrestling room. He can kick those guys' asses."

"But that isn't the right way to go about it. Kurt, you should tell someone about this." Rachel said. "I mean, slushies are one thing—and you're lucky you have that Cheerios uniform because everyone knows better than to mess that up—but if this escalates…"

"Hold up, hold up," Mercedes interrupted, "Kurt, you are so much stronger than those assholes. Don't let them bother you. Well, unless it gets really bad, like what Berry said. Just know that we're always here for you, okay?"

Kurt smiled, grateful that he had such supportive friends. "Thanks, girls. It's a shame that you guys don't have boyfriends. Although I feel like something really did happen between you and Finn, Rachel, because he actually came to me for help yesterday. What happened when you practiced your duet? You still never told me, and that's unacceptable."

"What did he ask you about?" Rachel shifted uncomfortably, "I won't tell you unless…unless you tell me why exactly you and Blaine left my party early."

Kurt crossed his arms. "So we fooled around a bit. Big deal—I'm not saying anything else, not unless you tell us what's going on."

"Fine, fine…we kissed. A little bit. It wasn't much but it was…amazing. Now what did he ask you about?" she said quickly while the other girls gasped.

"Oh, now it makes a lot more sense. He asked if it's possible to like two people at once. I said that I'm pretty sure you can, even though I've never been in that situation—unless having a huge crush on Taylor Lautner while having a boyfriend counts—and then, in true Finn Hudson-style, he asked if it's possible to like someone of a different religion. He's also been having problems with Quinn, which explains why she's been in such a pissy mood at practice lately." On Tuesday Quinn had randomly sprinted out of practice crying; Coach was less than thrilled with her hissy fit.

"Oh, God, she's going to ruin me if I get together with Finn. Although I'm so much better for him than her, considering that I can help him become more confident with his blatant talent, which rivals mine…our voices go perfectly together, and therefore we _should _be together…"

"Rachel, be quiet. I didn't come here to listen to you go on and on about your talent; I came to get a facial from Kurt and so we can watch chick flicks. You ready, Kurt?"

"Sure—I just need to call my dad and make sure he's doing okay." Kurt was at Rachel's house because his father and Carole were focused on moving into their new house (they chose the smaller one closer to the high school—Kurt was shocked to find that he was happy with that choice. He couldn't walk to Blaine's house anymore, but that was okay, as he knew that he would be getting a car for his sixteenth birthday in May). He was only staying there for the weekend so he could stay out of—for lack of a better expression—his dad's hair, since he was the last person they needed while they were moving. Kurt left the room and took out his phone, dialing his dad's number.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's Kurt, just checking in."

"I didn't realize how many clothes you had until I had another guy help me move your box. Do you own all of the Alexander McQueen collections from the past few years?"

Kurt laughed. "No, Dad, cut it out. Do you think the house will be ready in time for Thanksgiving?"

"Yep. We officially move in on Tuesday." Some shouting in the background. "Ah—Blaine needs help with something, I've got to go."

"Wait, Blaine?!" Kurt shouted, "Blaine as in _Blaine_-Blaine?"

"Yes. I've got to go, Kurt, I'll call you tomorrow morning."

"I want answers!" He demanded, and the phone clicked. He groaned and punched in Blaine's number.

(5:28) **Do you now have a job with a moving company, or…?**

"Kuuuurtt!" Rachel sang from the closed door, "The pizza is coming in an hour and we need to have all of our facials done by then, so hurry up!"

"I bet he's talking to Blaine right now."

"It's only been a few hours since they were last together and they probably miss each other so much."

"I am _not _talking to Blaine, and if you guys go there I'll make sure that this mix is so intense that your faces will be red for days!" He snapped as he opened the door to find all of the girls giggling on the bed. "All right, let me get my things from my bag and prep in the bathroom, and make sure that you don't piss me off in the process."

* * *

(6:46) _Sorry, your dad's ordering take-out right now. I decided to stop by and help out, since I had nothing to do today._

(6:49) **I'm pretty sure that you're just trying to suck up to him. Did you talk about football?**

(6:52) _Captain's Log, Star date 2013 AD, I'm pretty sure that I've infiltrated the Hummel-Hudson clan. They see me as one of their kind. Their leader Burt Hummel is taking me out to a football game later this month as I had to decline his invitation to celebrate Thanksgiving with him._

(6:53) **You did not just**

(6:54) **I am dating a nerd oh my god**

(6:55) _:)_

(6:57) **Anyway, my dad invited you over for Thanksgiving? More importantly, you can't go?!**

(7:00) _We always go to visit family in Columbus. Sorry. I'd much rather spend it with you; trust me. I'm sure that I can get out of watching the game as we always do and sneak a call in. Will that be okay?_

(7:02) **More than okay, considering that will be the best we can do :( Oh crap, the girls are telling me to stop avoiding them and help them set up the TV so we can watch a movie.**

(7:03) _Do you think you can text me throughout the movie? I want to hear your take on this one story your dad was telling me about the time you went to watch _March of The Penguins_…_

(7:04) **I don't think I'm ever speaking to him ever again. Or you, if you ever bring that up! Talk to you in a little…**

(7:05) _Bye; I have all night, but don't be too long._

(7:10) **Hiiii Blainey I miss you soooo much and I love love love you and Rachel because Rachel is the best everrrr**

(7:12) _…Rachel, please give the phone back to Kurt._

(7:13) **Now it's Tina. Kurt's busy with selecting a dvd; he doesn't know that we hijacked his phone. He wants to watch ****_When Harry Met Sally_**** but we don't want to—any suggestions?**

(7:16) _Yes, 1. Give him back his phone and 2. Tell him I think _March of The Penguins_ is a better choice._

(7:18) **Mercedes here. Is that code for something you two *do*? Because Kurt just kind of flipped out. I don't need to know the details.**

(7:20) _No, no! Just give him the phone!_

(7:25) **Okay, it's me; I had to wrestle it from them. They're not allowed within a five-foot radius of me or else I'm going to get up in the middle of the night and draw on their faces while they're sleeping.**

(7:26) _Draw what? ;)_

(7:28) **I'm dating a nerd *and* a twelve year old. Anyway, find a way to entertain me because they decided on ****_The Notebook_**** and I'm mad about it**

(7:32) _For your information, I'm going to be seventeen soon, so I'm almost an adult. And I'm sitting with your dad and Mrs. Hudson, who're watching football on the new couch. I'm half-watching and half-waiting for your texts. Your dad is seriously obsessed with this sport—I think we should hold an intervention. What's wrong with _The Notebook_? You love that movie._

(7:34) **That he is, and that is a good idea. I don't want to watch because then I'm going to start crying and the last thing I need is for these girls to see me crying and they'll make fun of me even more.**

(7:36) _It is kind of adorable that you're reduced to tears within the first few minutes of the film._

(7:38) **Please, you were crying too! Anyway…time for serious talk.**

(7:43)_...am I in trouble?_

(7:45) **No…it's just that…I think we should go public after Thanksgiving. **

(7:48) _It sounds like we're celebrities or something. But what brought this about?_

(7:50) **I dunno, I think all of the dramatics are kind of stupid now. Glee knows, my parents know (do your parents know?)…how bad can it be when, or if, Coach finds out?**

(7:52) _Kurt…we'd *die*. Well, we're too close to Nationals, and she can't exactly lose two of her strongest components (she won't admit it but you're one of the better ones, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend), but afterwards…we'll be kicked off of the Cheerios and we'll be at her disposal every day for torture._

(7:55) **What's the big deal about getting kicked off? She kicks people off every day. And we can go to Figgins or whoever and complain about harassment, or I can get my dad involved if it gets *really* bad**

(7:57) _Kurt, I'm the captain, and I don't want to lose that title. I'm pretty sure it's not going to be as simple as that, though._

(7:59) **Please, you're being ridiculous. Is your captainship more important than me?**

(8:02) _Shit. I'm sorry that you took it that way. No, it's not. Nothing is more important than you…it's just that cheerleading is very, very, very important to me, and…we should be having this conversation in person. I can't do this over text._

(8:05) **We don't have to; this is stupid. I get it.**

(8:05) _Get what? You're making me nervous._

(8:09) _Kurt, please._

(8:15) **Sorry, the girls saw that I was texting you and wanted to know what was going on. They said that we should have this conversation in person, but they also think it's stupid. They think it's dumb that Coach would make us leave the Cheerios if she found out we were together, but they don't know *her*. It's just…this movie is making me overly emotional and I need you here right now. It's not the same without you.**

(8:17) _Do you want me to come? Because I can, if Rachel says okay._

(8:19) **She says "no boys allowed", sorry.**

(8:21) _Um…last time I checked, you're a boy. I guess she doesn't want to be a third wheel._

(8:22) **It's more like we'd be a bicycle and Tina, Mercedes, and Rachel would be a tricycle. A friendly tricycle. They're all cuddled up under a blanket, crying. We're up to the part where they're on the boat—damn, Ryan Gosling is so hot.**

(8:24) _…you like beards? Should I grow one out? Because I can…_

(8:25) **No no no no no then kissing you would be weird. And high school boys with facial hair creep me out. **

(8:27) _I'm imagining it right now._

(8:27) **What?**

(8:29) _Shh, I'm making plans._

(8:30) **If you're planning a Notebook-themed date, save it for the spring. **

(8:31) _You know me too well._

(8:33) **Shh, I'm trying to focus on a soaking-wet Ryan Gosling.**

(8:35) _That's because when we watched it together you were too focused on me ;)_

(8:36) **I didn't get to appreciate him shirtless; I'm making up for lost time right now.**

(8:37) _You've seen me shirtless plenty of times!_

(8:40) **STOP**

(8:41) _He's carrying her up the stairs now, isn't he? I can do that to you._

(8:43) **Mercedes just said that you've probably done that to me.**

(8:45) _What, I've laid you down on the bed and ravished you all night? There's plenty of time for that._

(8:47) **I threw a pillow at her. Ugh watching sex scenes with other people is so uncomfortable.**

(8:49) _Not when your heavily making out with the person who's watching it with you._

(8:52) **If you were here I'd also throw a pillow at you.**

(8:54) _I'm sure you'd do that. Are we okay now? That argument just kind of fell apart._

(8:55) **I guess this movie works wonders on our relationship. Yes, we're okay.**

(8:57) _Good, because I have to go. _

(9:00) **:(**

(9:02) _We've been texting for over two hours straight; surely you can wait 10 minutes until I get home. I'm in my car right now, about to drive myself home._

(9:02) **Okay, I think I can handle it.**

* * *

"The thing I'd miss most about us being a secret is not being able to do this anymore," Blaine said as he placed his hands on Kurt's hips, adjusting them so they were in the right position. It was the day before Thanksgiving; Blaine was set to leave for Columbus early the next morning and would not be returning until Sunday afternoon. So far, their private practice had consisted of a third of saying their physical goodbyes, a third of taking advantage of their last late-night practice together, and a third of actual cheerleading.

"Yeah; if we're still on the team there's no way she'll leave us alone together," Kurt sighed as Blaine's lips landed on his neck, kissing him softly. His hips moved out of place again, but Blaine didn't seem to care anymore.

"At least we'll be able to do this in the hallway," Blaine worked his way up his jaw to gently press against his mouth, eliciting a breathy moan from the back of Kurt's throat. While his body appreciated the attention, his mind was stuck on Blaine's words, and he backed away.

"Um…PDA isn't really my thing," he mumbled, entangling his fingers in Blaine's gelled curls.

"Is hand-holding a good compromise?" Blaine stepped back so he could give Kurt his famous puppy-eyes, and Kurt couldn't resist.

"Ten seconds max; you can walk me to science. Although Rachel will probably ambush us." Blaine's eyes brightened and he pecked Kurt on the nose. "Do you think we can concentrate on practicing for maybe ten minutes straight right now? We have four days off and I'm sure that Coach is going to whip our asses on Monday so I want to make sure that I won't die."

"Fine, fine…but for the last fifteen minutes, you're all mine, since it's been a week since our last make-out session and I won't be able to see you for _days_," Blaine lamented, letting Kurt go so he could turn on the music again. "We're on for 7:30 tomorrow night, yeah?"

"Yes, I'll text you before to confirm that my dad isn't forcing some more turkey down my throat, as he thinks that I need some more meat on my bones. Nah, I'm pretty sure Finn is going to eat it all. That kid eats so much; it's like he's a vacuum."

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, he seems like that kind of guy. Okay, let's take it from the top, and make it count!"

* * *

Thanksgiving was, for the most part, a disaster. Yes, the food was great, and the few members of Carole's extended family who managed to come were very nice, but there was one thing that ruined the entire holiday: Finn and his breakup with Quinn.

Carole found Finn locked in his room around 2:30, when all the expected guests had arrived, except for Quinn. Apparently they had broken up over phone that night, and it was not pretty. As it turned out, Finn had learned that Quinn was cheating on him with Puck. Kurt knew that he wasn't too upset about breaking up, as Finn had confided that she was ticking him off ("She's so obsessed with her image and her popularity. I got a hairful of yelling—wait, it's earful? Oops. Anyway, she got really mad when I took up Glee. And she won't even let me touch her boobs. Like, what's the point?"): it more the reason _why_ they split up. Kurt was afraid of what Finn was going to do with Puck.

Eventually Carole coaxed him out of his room, but he was basically a zombie for the rest of the day. He plopped himself in front of the TV to watch the parade and football game, and only grunted in reply when someone tried to hold a conversation with him. That left Kurt at the discretion of all of his prying relatives.

Kurt had texted Blaine a few times out of utter desperation to have someone his own age to talk to, as Finn would only open his mouth to shovel some more food in, but Blaine hardly replied. He, like Kurt, was completely preoccupied with family, who relentlessly dug into his personal life. He did confirm that 7:30 would be the perfect time for the phone all, although he'd only have thirty minutes to talk.

Kurt was flipping through a catalog of _Vogue _when the time rolled around: he jumped from the couch and nearly sprinted to his bedroom, pulling up Blaine's contact.

"Hi," he said breathlessly as he collapsed on his bed when Blaine answered after a few rings.

"Hi," Blaine's voice cracked due to a lack of good service.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he said after a few seconds of just listening to Blaine breathing.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too. How's it going in the Hummel-Hudson household?"

"Okay, I guess. I'm eighty percent sure I'm not going to eat for the next few days or else I'll explode, although that seems like it's the only thing Finn can do right now."

"How is he holding up? I'd much rather talk about other stuff, and I'm sure that it'll be all over school on Monday, but I hope that he hasn't been hunting down Puck…"

"No, no; he's just been sulking this entire time. All of his relatives went to me to get information. I'm kind of sick of talking right now, as that's basically all I've been doing for the past few hours. How many times do I have to tell his aunt Mildred that I really am a boy?"

"Mildred is such a cliché name for an aunt."

"…I actually made it up; I can't remember her name. She looks like a Mildred, to be fair. Anyway, how's Thanksgiving going with your family?"

Blaine let out a long sigh, and Kurt knew something big had occurred. "So my family has this dumb tradition of saying what we're thankful for…and when my turn came around, I said you."

Kurt's heart leaped into his throat and tattooed against his Adam's apple. "In what context?" he insinuated after finding his voice a few seconds later.

"I said that I was thankful for my boyfriend and how he has helped me through so much this year. I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack, he was so shocked—and angry," he added, wincing slightly. "The rest of my family asked a thousand and one questions, as my aunts, uncles, and cousins didn't know I'm gay. They weren't the good sort of questions: 'are you sure?' 'It's probably just a phase.' 'I've heard that gay people go to hell; is that true, Mom?'" Kurt longed to touch Blaine in some way and wipe his sad tone away, but he knew he couldn't. Blaine was miles and miles away.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay; I'm glad they know. Is that okay that my family knows about you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Kurt said after thinking about it for a second, "I just wonder what they'd think of me."

"I told them you're the only other male Cheerio; my mom said that she didn't know there was another guy. I guess she didn't read the article closely enough, even though it was all she talked about for the past few hours." He laughed weakly. "Right now they're kind of ignoring me… I feel like we're going to have a huge fight when we get back to the hotel."

"I wish you were here." That was all Kurt could think; his heart ached for Blaine.

"Me too, me too. I'm thankful that I can at least _talk _to you."

"Same. Do you want to know what I'm thankful for? I'm thankful that I have you. That I've helped you through so much, that I've experienced so many things with you, that I'm fa…I'm so fabulous." _No. I was not about to say "I'm falling for you." I almost said "I'm falling for you."_

_I'm falling in love with Blaine._

"I'm thankful that you're so fabulous, too," Blaine agreed with a laugh. Kurt joined in weakly. He was grateful that he was lying down; his knees would give out if he was standing. "So are you going to use that fabulousness for Black Friday shopping tomorrow?"

"Of course! I'm dragging Rachel to the mall at four tomorrow morning," Kurt replied eagerly, grateful that Blaine changed the subject. They chatted about sales and so on for a few more minutes, until Blaine remorsefully reported that he had to go.

"Just hold on 'til Monday, okay? I'll text you throughout the weekend."

"Good…erm, bye, then."

"Bye." Kurt pressed the "end call" button and lied down on his back, thinking about all of the words left unsaid at the end of their call.

* * *

He was changing into his gym clothes in the locker room on Monday when he heard the voice.

"You! Lady! Get your corrupted butt into my office, NOW!"

Kurt swiftly pulled up his shorts and sprinted out of the locker room, chasing after an infuriated Sue Sylvester.

_What have I done now?_

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long; it's been a crazy week in terms of fandoms with teaser trailers and the 12th Doctor and Glee spoilers, as well as starting my summer work for school. I also start soccer next week, so my summer is basically over...ugh.

I've already started the next chapter (which I've been planning for _ages_), so hopefully you won't be left hanging on this cliff for too long :)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: wankycriss: good observations!

Michael: you're WRONG :)

I apologize for the short, belated update in advance...smut beware

* * *

Kurt was feeling very apprehensive as he entered his coach's office; his stomach plummeted when he saw that Blaine was sitting in one of the two chairs before her desk, his head in his hands. Something bad was about to happen. Something _very _bad. He stood in the doorway, awaiting Coach Sue's instructions as she took a seat, her hands toying with the remote that went with the petite television sitting on her desk.

"Sit," she commanded, and Kurt did so, wondering why his chair was at such an unusually far distance from Blaine's. He couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine; he kept his eyes trained on the pink smoothie in front of him that Coach always carried with her. It was the only thing he could focus on without wanting to throw up—actually, that also made him want to throw up, as the mysterious substance kind of freaked him out.

Sue Sylvester leaned over on her desk and stared at the two boys, her eyes narrowing slightly as she smiled wickedly.

"Yes, the seats you are in are exactly eight yards apart: I did some research and apparently that's how far you need to be so your pheromones don't get you two started." Kurt's jaw nearly fell to the floor, and Blaine coughed next to him in shock. _So that's why we're here; oh God, did Quinn spill? She probably did, that bitch._ "Of course I know you're together. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. All I needed was a slight, slight curiosity to know what you were doing during your Wednesday practices, as I noticed that Lady Hummel's feet were a little off their mark in the starting position of the first Nationals number. All I needed…were these." Coach Sylvester produced a few VHS tapes from inside of her desk, and Kurt sank in his chair. _Oh my God. How could we forget? _ He never felt stupider in his life. "I have nearly every square inch of this school bugged, with the exception of the bathrooms and locker rooms, as I have no interest in what goes on in there. I wanted Porcelain to work on his tumbling; he only got a vigorous workout on his lips and…ugh, _other places_." She turned on the television, which showed the blurry black-and-white outline of Kurt and Blaine's bodies pressed together against the wall. Kurt wished that he had a pen and paper so he could write his suicide note, if he wasn't going to die in that moment. It would be such an odd headline in the paper: "_Lima Teen Literally Dies of Embarrassment."_ "I am absolutely repulsed and ashamed. You see that mat you two were canoodling on?" She pointed to the dark mat on the screen, where Kurt watched as Blaine straddled him—_Oh God, I'm going to get kicked off of the Cheerios for making out with the captain, this is going to be my legacy_—"I had to have that power-washed two times over the break, as I was afraid your raging hormones got all over it. Yes, it was undeniable that you two had chemistry; although I am incapable of feeling it (as no one else is worthy of me), I can see it. I was sure that this antisocial jackass of a captain-" she pointed at Blaine, whose thick eyebrows knitted together in frustration, "—would prevent anything from happening, since Twinkle Toes seems so precious and innocent. I had young Burt Reynolds film you at that one practice because I knew he would be an insufferable jerk to you—I never suspected that Porcelina would turn him soft, and that my wonder gay would corrupt him. I have to say, Anderson, I expected better of you. It seemed that you'd be my protégé—not anymore. I guess I'll have to give Quinn and Santana more training." She paused and took a long swig of her smoothie; Blaine took it as his cue to speak.

"So does that mean…does that mean I'm not the captain anymore?" He asked timidly, and much to their combined surprise, she shook his head.

"Nope; I need my top gays on the team, and while I'm mortified by your behavior, I still need Anderson as my captain. He's the best tumbler in the tri-state area and I can't afford to lose him.

"Stupidity does have its repercussions, though. As your punishment, you two will perform a number together at Nationals. I hate to admit it, but Glee is helping with your singing, and the judges thrive on musical performances for whatever reason—they just fill me with ire and give me terrible migraines. I hear that you two are among the top singers in Schuester's loser collection, so I can use that and your acrobatic abilities to secure the win. That means that you two have to focus more on practicing than giving each other orgasms." Kurt's cheeks flared again.

"How is that a punishment?" Blaine asked; he seemed to be very pleased with the idea. Kurt, however, had a harrowing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You don't have much time to prepare at all, and I haven't even come up with the choreography yet. This number is happening no matter what, so it's up to you two to prove that we can win seven years in a row. And if you two put a _toe_ on the line, you _will _regret it. You know what line I'm referring to," she fast-forwarded the video so it showed their post-workout make-out session from the week before, where Blaine was furiously attacking Kurt's neck. Even in the awful quality of the film, Kurt's face was vividly screwed up in pleasure.

"Disgusting," she spat, and threw a few papers and Kurt and Blaine, who caught them. "Now take these passes and get out of my sight. I'll see you two at practice." They scrambled out of their seats and ran out of the door, grateful to finally be out of her discerning gaze.

"That was probably the most embarrassing moment of my entire life," Kurt groaned as they made their way down the empty hallway. Blaine surprised him by lacing their fingers together as they walked towards Blaine's classroom (he had Health instead of gym that quarter; he had complained to Kurt for the past week about how sexual education was completely one-sided). He wanted to protest against the PDA, but remembered that no one could see them, so he continued to grip onto Blaine's warm hand.

"Expect to stay in the locker room a little longer than usual; we need to talk," he insinuated as Kurt raised an eyebrow. Before he could say anything more, he quickly squeezed Kurt's hand and walked into the room. Kurt watched the door close behind him and then continued on to the gym, going over what they might discuss in his head.

* * *

The rest of the day went rather quickly: Rachel threatened to lock him in the girls' bathroom until he told her why he was twenty minutes late to gym. He simply said that Coach got kind of pissed off at them, as she usually did with random members of the Cheerios, and announced that they were performing a duet at Nationals. Rachel squealed at the news and congratulated him, but all Kurt could feel was an immense amount of pressure and anxiety. He was going to be showcased at his first major cheerleading competition _ever_.

Kurt felt as if he floated around to his classrooms like a ghost, praying that Cheerios practice would come soon so maybe Coach would give him at least a hint as to what the duet would be. He was also restless in trying to figure out what exactly Blaine wanted to discuss: he hoped it was about their pending performance and how they would go about practicing it.

Finally he found himself at Cheerios practice—the squad had the gym all to themselves (practices had been moved indoors as it was too cold to go outside), and Coach Sylvester was taking full advantage of it. Kurt figured that she still harbored pent-up anger from before, as she was being absolutely malicious. They were at their last water break; Blaine winked at him from across the room as he brought his water bottle to his lips. Kurt gave him a weak smile and set down his water to go join a few of the other girls and Coach in the center of the gym.

"Today was _horrible_!" She yelled into her beloved megaphone (although she didn't need to use it, as she was right in front of them) while the rest of the Cheerios congregated on the mat. "If you want to get to Nationals you're going to have to work three times as hard! So now you're going to have to do three times as many push-ups as our usual twenty to close practice—stop groaning; it's only sixty! I want my two boys up at the front leading all of you, as they are going to be doing our musical number at Nationals. That's right, ladies and gays, our favorite flamers are going to be showcased at our biggest event of the year. If you've got a problem, you can drop down right now and do quadruple the amount of pushes. Are we good? Okay, get up there." She pointed at Kurt and Blaine, who were on opposite sides of the mat. They got up and did as they were told.

"All right, girls, hands and knees," Blaine said as he dropped down to the ground; Kurt followed suit as someone who sounded suspiciously like Santana shouted "I bet he tells you to do that a lot, Lady!" Kurt grimaced, but ignored her—he looked at Blaine, who was shaking his head. "…and now push your legs behind you, and down—one—two—three…" he launched right into counting as he pushed up and down; Kurt struggled to keep up, considering that he was going at a rapid pace.

After what seemed like forever, Blaine uttered a final "sixty" and lowered himself one last time. Kurt's arms wobbled as he lifted himself back up—many girls were lying on the mat, completely fatigued.

Coach called Blaine over and dismissed the rest of the Cheerios. Kurt headed in the opposite direction of the girls to the boys' locker room; he wished that he didn't have to have what he supposed was a serious conversation with Blaine while they were so tired and sweaty. He glanced back at Blaine, who was staring intently at a clipboard that Coach was holding—he assumed that Blaine would be gone for a while, so he could take a quick shower. He entered the locker room and walked straight towards the showers, grabbing a towel on his way there. He set down his bag, took out some soap, and began to strip down until he was completely nude. Goosebumps rose on his white skin at the obnoxiously high air conditioning as he threw his towel over the wall that separated him from the other stall and set his clothes down outside of the stall. A piping hot blast of water jetted out from the shower head when he turned it on, licking his skin like tongues of fire, and immediately turned freezing cold: Kurt tinkered with the temperature until it was just right (a little on the warm side).

He hummed a few show tunes as he rubbed the grime from his body, and then gave in to belting out "For Good"—it was impossible for him to resist _Wicked_. The sweat slowly washed from his body as he stood under the pathetic stream of water. Regardless, it was completely refreshing, as he felt energy return to his tired muscles.

Kurt nearly slipped and fell when he heard the shower next to him turn on.

"You should get more solos in Glee, you know, you're really good," Blaine said as he adjusted the shower head. Kurt was grateful that the walls separating them were too high for them to see below their chests, as Blaine would be able to see that Kurt was getting hard. How could he not when his very attractive boyfriend was very naked next to him?

"Thanks," Kurt replied, and stole a glance at Blaine's profile: his eyes were closed as he tilted his head back, letting the water hit him straight on his chest. Kurt let his eyes linger a bit, absorbing the sight of Blaine's wet curls sticking to his forehead, the droplets of water coursing down his chin; the way his pecs glistened in the crap lighting; his—

"You're staring, Kurt." _Shit_. Kurt flicked his eyes up to see Blaine gazing at him with his lips curled into a smug smile, his gold eyes (_is it even possible for someone to have that eye color; literally the shade of fine jewelry?_) dancing as they bore into Kurt's.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and dropped his head so he was staring at his feet. He turned the cold knob a few notches, hoping that it would help him cool down. _No staring allowed. Just try to focus. _"So, you wanted to talk?" He made the mistake of looking up again; Blaine's arms were splayed across Kurt's towel, his head resting on them. _Fuck_.

Blaine sighed and traced circles into the fabric with his forefinger. "Is it okay if I get this shower over and done with first?"

"I can help you with that," Kurt said lowly, the words escaping from his lips. He only meant to think them, but of course they had to slip. Blaine's finger paused as he stared up at Kurt.

"Kurt…you do realize that I'm not really in the most appropriate state right now." He stated lowly.

"I know that…remember that Coach doesn't have this place bugged, and…I kind of miss…the physical aspect of our relationship. Who knows when we'll be able to, um, fool around again?"

Blaine pursed his lips. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, but…you do have a point. I miss it too. I miss it a lot, actually."

"_You're_ the one who wanted to stop," Kurt warned him teasingly. God, he wanted to go over there and throw himself at Blaine and make up for all of the lost time—

"Yeah, yeah…maybe we can ignore that for now. What do you define as 'helping me' shower?"

"I can…hold on," Kurt grabbed his liquid soap and turned off his shower. He crept around the corner and beheld the sight of a naked Blaine from behind for the first time. Kurt himself felt very bare in that moment, a gentle flush overcoming him as he tried to somewhat cover himself before Blaine turned around. The momentary embarrassment was well worth the sight before him, though: his provocative dream from nearly three months prior hardly did Blaine's sinewy back and ass justice.

Blaine turned around slightly, his mouth forming into a comical "o" shape; his eyes conspicuously swept over Kurt's nudity. The single stream of water continued to flow in silence. They looked at each other without saying a word for what seemed like ages as goosebumps rose on Kurt's skin once again from being exposed to the harsh air conditioning.

"So…you want to…" Blaine stuttered, finally breaking the silence.

"Here," Kurt said quietly, and stepped into the stall, sighing with relief as the warm steam engulfed him. He opened his soap and poured some into his hands, letting it drizzle on his fingers as he took his time in staring at Blaine's bare back even more. Blaine allowed him to take his time as he lathered the substance, but Kurt could tell that he was getting impatient by the way he kept kneading his quads with his knuckles.

"_Oh_," Blaine moaned as Kurt placed his hands on his shoulder blades and let his thumbs straddle the sides of his spine, slowly tracing it as he began to grow accustomed the foreign map of Blaine's body. He'd given Rachel massages over the past few years, usually to calm her down before a stressful performance. She always praised him, saying that he was a talented masseuse, but Blaine's back was so different from hers. Unlike with Rachel's back, however, Kurt yearned to explore every inch of Blaine's.

Kurt was careful in making sure that no other part of his body was touching Blaine besides his hands, which were working furiously on a knot he just found in the crevasse of his right shoulder blade. He kept his eyes focused on the muscles rippling under his touch, trying to drown out the sound of Blaine's low moans that only excited him more. He tasted a drop of water that had trickled down his cheek, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he continued to massage the knot.

"Oh my God, _Kurt_," Blaine grunted as Kurt moved to a new spot in his trapeziuses, immediately attacking yet another knot, "how are you so _good _at this?"

"Years of practice on Rachel," Kurt answered; Blaine arched his back as Kurt worked the muscle even harder. He let his hands travel a bit farther down his back, permitting them drink in his delicious skin and hard sinew and bone underneath. Kurt's fingers traced along the curvature of Blaine's spine, feeling the rigid knobs of his vertebrae. How that backbone worked every day; bending and arching consistently in cheerleading, hunching over school work, curving ever so slightly so he could press his lips against Kurt's…Kurt wondered how it would hold up if Karofsky and his friends decided to target him.

Yet the unyielding ossein concealed beneath a blanket of taut tendons and flesh reminded him of how remarkably _strong_ he was, how he'd already overcome so many obstacles and could overcome so many more.

"Should I be jealous?" Blaine mumbled as Kurt began to work on his lower back.

"Well, she did propose marriage one," Kurt laughed; Blaine did as well, his body shaking under Kurt's touch. His fingers brushed against softer skin, skin he'd never touched on another person before, and he paused, waiting for a response from Blaine.

"You…you can, if you want," he stated quietly. It was incredibly tempting, but Kurt had visions of them going too far, farther than he wanted to go in the boys' locker room…

There was, however, one thing he wanted to try. It was a fantasy he'd never expected to obtain, and yet…

"Can we just kiss a little bit?" Kurt implored, his hands resting on Blaine's hips. "I want to make you feel good."

"But you already-" Kurt turned Blaine around and kissed his wet, divine lips.

"Shut up and trust me," he murmured, and Blaine hummed against him in agreement. Kurt's hands pressed into the dimples of Blaine's lower back, their wet hips nearly touching as they kissed in the pleasant flow of the shower. There was something about the warm water that seemed to spark a long-dormant desire within the two, and while it seemed to be rather uncouth that they were making out in the shower at school, Kurt figured that they had to live a little—experience things that he might regret later, but for the time being, would feel amazing.

Kurt's right hand shifted from Blaine's back to his hard stomach, and then slid down to his cock, which was standing flush against his body. Blaine growled into Kurt's mouth in pleasure, his teeth grazing against his bottom lip as he took in the sensation. As he continued to stroke him slowly, Kurt felt a hand creeping down his abdomen, but he batted it away.

"This is for you. Remember how I asked you to trust me? I really need it right now," Kurt said as he pushed Blaine against the wall. Blaine jerked his head, giving Kurt a quizzical look that soon turned to utter shock as Kurt got down on his knees.

"Oh my God…Kurt, babe, you don't…do you _seriously_ want to do this in the locker room!?" Blaine stammered.

Kurt blushed, looking down at the floor. "I don't know, I always thought this was kind of hot," he muttered. His eyes trailed up from Blaine's feet, to his rounded calves, up the curve of his thighs…

"Do you even know what you're doing, Kurt?" Blaine hissed as Kurt thrust his head forward and kissed the insides of Blaine's thighs in mental preparation. His lips gently caressed the skin, his cheeks brushing against dark hair.

"I asked you to trust me; do you want me to stop?" He looked up at Blaine, his thumbs pressing into the dips of his hip bones.

"No. I mean, yes, I trust you. Wait, I mean, are you sure you want to—_oh, _you are," Blaine moaned as Kurt gently closed his mouth around the head, held for a second, and then lifted off with a small _pop_, his eyes shut. _ I really just did that. I just did that and I _liked_ it._

Kurt languidly shifted his head so he was looking up at Blaine, the stream of water from the shower head coursing down his hunched back. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Blaine breathed out, his hands balled up against the damp wall. He blinked water out of his eyes as he stared back down at Kurt. "Are you okay?"

Kurt wiped his mouth. "Yeah, I…I just need to get used to it. I _want_ to get used to it. It's just…tell me when you're—when you're close, all right?"

"Sure," He let out another moan, even raunchier than the first as Kurt came close to him again, his breath hot on his cock. He sent his mouth down a second time, taking in a little more than before as his lips adjusted to the size. He repeated the motion at a slow, capricious pace, as he wasn't exactly sure of what he was doing—all he knew was that he was doing _something_ right, based on the low moans and high whines Blaine was emitting. The fact that he was pleasuring his boyfriend so was nearly too much to handle. Water dripped from his hair down his cheekbones, adding to the accumulation of liquid around his lips. Eventually he became dizzy from lack of breath and backed away, coughing a little as he struggled to get a sufficient amount of air into his lungs. Kurt yelped as Blaine's pelvis unexpectedly snapped forward, his dick hitting his cheek.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Blaine gasped, his hips stilling but his chest rising and falling rapidly. Kurt shook his head and waved his hand, signaling that he was fine. The only thing that really hurt was his own cock, which ached to be touched-he figured that he could give multi-tasking a shot, and wrapped his right hand around himself while his left steadied Blaine's body against the wall as he sunk back down on Blaine. He whimpered, which sounded like a strangled groan on account of his mouth being full, as he finally touched himself, his hand moving at the same pace as his mouth.

Eventually Blaine's fingers entangled themselves in Kurt's hair, grasping onto the strands for what seemed like dear life. He subtly tugged Kurt forward, forcing him to take in a tad more than what his was used to; Kurt's throat closed as he choked a bit, his teeth grazing Blaine's cock, but he was urged on by Blaine's persistent moans.

Just a minute later Blaine was yanking at Kurt's hair. "Stop Kurt, I'm gonna…soon…" Kurt stumbled to his feet, leaving a few sloppy kisses on Blaine's neck as he stabilized his wobbly legs; his knees were sore from kneeling on the linoleum floor for so long. Eventually Blaine's pruned hands found Kurt's cheeks and clutched them tightly: he kissed Kurt harder than ever before and groaned as he tasted his pre-come on his lips. His hands traveled down Kurt's bare stomach, one sliding around his back and the other grabbing his dick as Kurt did the same.

"Fuck, Kurt, you took me in your mouth so well," Blaine growled into his ear, nipping at the lobe, and continued to whisper absolute filth that normally Kurt would find distasteful but only urged him closer to the edge. He gripped Blaine even tighter in his fist, his other hand moving up to grab his sodden curls. Soon Blaine's obscenities turned to nothingness as he dug his head into Kurt's shoulder, gasping into his collarbone as he came against their stomachs. Kurt instantly followed him, stars dancing in front of his eyes as he keened. As they came down from their highs, they slumped against the wall in exhaustion. Blaine grinned down at Kurt, a lethargic glint in his eyes as he stroked Kurt's cheek with his thumb.

"So," he said lowly after a few minutes, once they could finally find their voices.

"So," Kurt croaked, unsure of what to say.

"I…why don't we wash up again and talk about it while we dry off." Kurt nodded in agreement, and they did so, wiping their bodies clean of sweat and other bodily substances yet again. Once they finished, Blaine turned off the shower and rubbed himself dry with his towel; Kurt turned around and did the same, wrapping the cloth around his waist once he finished. He looked at Blaine, who was in the same state as he was.

"How…is that something you'd, erm, like to do again?" He asked shyly. He still couldn't believe he had _done_ that. He never even thought he'd get a blow job in at least five _years_, let alone _give_ one. God, did it feel good, even though his jaw kind of ached.

"Excuse my French, but fuck yes!" Blaine answered, smiling widely. "That was…that was great, Kurt. Jesus. But I'd rather treat _you _next time. Damn, I owe you a lot."

"Yes, yes, negotiations later. We were supposed to meet in the locker room to talk about important stuff, right?" Kurt reminded him, and Blaine groaned.

"Ugh, we always seem to get a little distracted, don't we? At least we won't get in trouble…anyway, Coach told me what we're singing for our duet. She has a good idea for the routine, and it's not going to be easy."

"What is it?" Kurt asked nervously.

"Four Minutes."

"Madonna? Not bad." Not bad—Kurt _worshipped _that song.

Blaine sighed, and Kurt knew something was wrong. "There's another problem…"

"Crap. What is it now?" Kurt groaned. _Will the complications ever end_?

"Nationals conflicts with Regionals."

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think! Also, preseason has started, so it'll probably take me longer to update.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Just to keep you in check with the setting (in case you're confused), it's nearly December at the beginning of this chapter, and cheer Nationals/Glee Regionals is in March. Glee Nationals (if they make it, of course...) will be in June.

Also, I am so so so so oso osososooSO sorry for the delay…I had a major bout of writer's block, and soccer/summer work for school has been stressing me out.

So without any further ado, enjoy!

* * *

Kurt groaned. _Of course. Of-fucking-course. _"What do you mean by that? Are they on the same day?"

Blaine shook his head emphatically, much to Kurt's relief. "No, but close: it's the day after. February is going to be absolute hell."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Kurt queried as he got up, keeping his towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He turned to retrieve his bedraggled uniform and stuffed it in his bag after getting his clean sweatpants and sweatshirt out. A rustling from the other side of the room notified him that Blaine was doing the same. He began to change while Blaine spoke.

"I guess we're just going to have to tell Mr. Schue that the Cheerios come first, and-"

"Hold up; are you saying that we're going to _quit_ Glee?" Kurt paused at Blaine's words in shock.

"Well, we made the commitment to the Cheerios first, and if it turns out that all of the practices are too much…it's a lot to memorize and rehearse; I wouldn't be surprised if the other Cheerios in Glee quit, since that's probably the most detriment we can inflict upon the club at this point. Quinn will probably be the first to go, since she has nothing left in the club with her whole thing with Finn—or lack of a thing."

"I'm not going to leave Glee. I don't care what it takes."

"Kurt…I've not only got these two extracurriculars, as well as a few others to deal with; I have school and college visits and the SATs coming up. I'm under an overwhelming amount of pressure right now, and—and I'm not sure if I'm going to make it through…"

"Oh, Blaine—talk to me. What's going on?" He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and walked over in the direction of disturbance in the labyrinth of lockers. Blaine was sitting on a bench close to the door, his arms crossed against his chest—they were wearing the exact same outfits, which Kurt would've found funny in different circumstances. Kurt could see that Blaine was on the brink of losing it again, just like that day in the park. His knee was bouncing rapidly as he stared at the ground; Kurt watched as his chest rose and fell.

"It's just…everything is going so fast, you know? At this time next year, I'm going to be sending in my applications; I don't even know what I really want to do or where I want to go."

Kurt took a seat next to him, unsure of what to do or say. "You _do_ have another year…and you can go as undecided, right?"

Blaine snorted. "Every freaking time I mention that I'm a junior to someone, everyone immediately asks, 'oh, you're thinking about college, right? What major? What school are you leaning to?' I need to know _now_. And my PSAT scores were barely good enough for scholarships, so now I've got to kick ass on the SATs. I just don't really know where I want to go. I don't. Schools may want me for cheerleading, but I can't do that for the rest of my life, and I don't want to, but what else can I do? It's not like I'm that talented in other areas…"

_Not talented in other areas?_ Kurt thought in disbelief. "You're a great singer, Blaine. Actually, you're exceptional, beyond exceptional. You play the piano as well, I know from that cover of Teenage Dream, and you have that piano in your house, I saw it the first time I came over."

"I took lessons for years; it was more of a disciplinary thing, but it grew into a hobby, unbeknownst to my parents. That's the one thing that comes to mind when I envision myself in the future: music. My parents would probably kill me for going into such an unstable field, although…" he trailed off, his expression dropping.

"What?" Kurt queried, but Blaine shook his head.

"Never mind. I guess music is my best shot, then. Do you really think that I'm exceptional?" Blaine asked as he looked at Kurt, a complacent glint in his gaze.

"Seriously, I'm sure you can go very far with your talent. I _know_ you can. Not as far as me, though—I'm going to be a Tony-Award winning performer on Broadway in a few years," Kurt mock-flipped invisible strands of hair from his shoulders, and Blaine laughed.

"Not before I have some hit singles out!" He protested as he lightly smacked Kurt's arm. The locker room soon grew quiet as their collective laughter subsided; it was a while until Blaine spoke up again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I also hate thinking about college because—because _you_ won't be there." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Recently it's been hard envisioning, I don't know, life…without you. Hence why I don't do it that much."

Kurt's heart stuttered as he turned to stare at Blaine. He recalled that stomach-churning revelation he had during Thanksgiving: _I'm falling in love with Blaine_.

Was it really _love_ that he was feeling? Was it _love_ that he felt for Blaine when he'd simply catch a quick glimpse of him in the hallway, was it _love_ stirring in his insides in that moment, was it _love _preventing his lungs from ballooning with air as he walked away, leaving him breathless?

_Love_. What a simple-looking word, a string of just four letters, alternating consonants and vowels that contain the power to simultaneously manifest and destroy life. It appears to be an intangible, unattainable idea, a false hope to so many—yet how could love not exist when it has been believed in for thousands of years? So many stories, myths, legends from all over this tiny Earth have been passed down from the word: love, _amor_, _Liebe_, _szerelem_, _upendo_…it must be real! If there was a war over a woman, a woman stolen from her husband that thousands of men died for, love _must_ be real!

Yet Kurt's love for Blaine—not love, no, he couldn't quite label it yet; he couldn't be sure so early in their relationship—could never be so morbid, so utterly savage. All he knew that whatever the hell he felt for Blaine, the strange _tha-thump_ of his heart screaming against his chest was so new, pure, and absolutely exquisite. And _scary_—God, he'd never been so scared in his life, aside from when he was pacing in his room a few months ago, trying to figure out how to come out to his dad. He had no real preparation for this. How could he predict his sheer loathing for Blaine to metamorphose into—into—

Everything he felt for Blaine was just…uncharted.

"Earth to Kurt," Blaine sang, and Kurt shook his thoughts away. "I think it's time to go; my English teacher assigned this nasty paper that I've got to tackle…"

_Recently it's been hard envisioning, I don't know, life…without you. _Blaine will be physically gone in two years, but the one thing Kurt was sure of was that he'll forever be imprinted in his mind, his heart, his _skin_…

* * *

When Kurt got into the house, he was startled by a peal of laughter—a female peal of laughter coming from the couch, where he could only see the back of Finn's head. That laugh was very, very familiar…

"When do you think Kurt's getting back? I need to get his opinion on what I should wear to New Year's," _Oh my God. Rachel and Finn are together on the couch—now they are very audibly _making out_ on the couch—_

"New Year's isn't for, like, a month. I'm sure you'll look fine." Finn reassured her as they fell back out of sight.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Finn," Kurt interrupted loudly while he walked past them into the kitchen; he heard a loud _thump! _as someone—presumably Rachel, as she was on top of Finn—fell on the floor.

"Oh, um, hi, Kurt, um," Finn stuttered; Kurt looked at him from the doorway with an apple in his hand, watching Rachel get up from the floor. She gave him a shy smile: Kurt grinned back and took a bite out of his fruit.

"'Can I get you guys anything? Some snacks? A condom? Let me know!'" He quoted, and Rachel's lips quickly curled into a scowl. Finn didn't seem to recognize the reference.

"Kurt, we're doing homework, go away," She replied as she fixed her skirt.

"You don't seem to be focused on your homework," he gestured towards the sheets of paper spread out on the table before them, blatantly left untouched. Rachel turned bright red as she sat down next to Finn.

Finn, on the other hand, groaned. "C'mon, Kurt, leave us alone. Anyway, you're home really late from practice; I'm sure you and _Blaine _were pretty occupied with each other-"

It was Kurt's turn to blush. "I'll be in my room; don't do anything stupid."

"I'm sure you'll be texting Blaine about how much you miss him after not seeing him for five-"

"Shut up, Rachel!"

* * *

(6:47) **Oh, how I hate Rachel Berry.**

(6:49) _?_

(6:51) **She is currently on my couch right now, probably swapping spit with Finn.**

(6:53) _Are you *jealous* of her? I'm insulted._

(6:54) **Shut up. You know I'm not. **

(6:56) _I wish you were here so you could physically prove that ;)_

(6:58) **Blaine!**

(7:00) _Oh wait, you already did that today :) anyway, returning to our conversation from before…we'll have to work out a schedule with Mr. Schue and Coach if we want to stay in both. We've still got plenty of time until March, but it's never too early to start thinking about it._

(7:02) **So we're staying?**

(7:03) _Of course. Anyway, I'm sure Rachel would murder us in our sleep if we quit._

(7:05) **No, that's only if we were to get a solo over her.**

(7:06) _You wanna Skype? I need to see your beautiful face right now._

(7:07) **...okay :)**

* * *

"There's something about winter that makes me want to have hot chocolate," Blaine said as he walked with Kurt to their usual table at the Lima Bean. They decided to have an impromptu coffee date, as school had been canceled that day from an early snow storm. Kurt woke up to see a few inches of a fluffy white blanket on the ground.

"Technically it's not winter yet, Blaine." Kurt corrected him.

"Please. It's, like, twenty-five degrees outside, there's snow out there, and we're not at school. The whole month of December is synonymous with winter."

"I really can't believe we're already a week into December," Kurt changed the subject as they sat down. He waved to Tina and Mike, who were sitting at a table nearby. "It feels like school started just a few days ago."

"You know what's coming up, then," Blaine said surreptitiously, and Kurt grinned.

"Of course I do. Our two-month anniversary. God, Homecoming seems like yesterday."

"Mmm," Blaine took a swig of his hot chocolate. "Remember when we had time to do things back then? Like, time to _breathe_?"

"Now it seems like I'm either singing or dancing all the time—I'm definitely going to lose my voice after Regionals for a month."

"My muscles are probably going to give out. You can pick up my corpse from the stage."

"'Here Lies Blaine Anderson: Died Of Cheerleading And Show Choir.' I'll be sure to leave a box of Cheerios on your grave every month."

Blaine nearly spat out his drink. "Oh my God, _Kurt_. Anyway, do you know what Rachel and Finn are up to? I imagine Rachel is freaking out over her solo." Mr. Schue had just assigned her a new song at their last Glee rehearsal.

"Quite the contrary. She won't shut up about it! I almost poured hydrochloric acid down her throat during science when she kept singing this one part over and over and _over_ again, asking me how it sounded. Only Finn can shut her up with his mouth, basically. My dad is _so _much more lenient with them; they're allowed to go in his room with the door closed, while we practically have to be right in front of him at all times."

"He's just overprotective of you. Anyway, Finn isn't really his son…well, not yet."

"Dad seems fine with saying 'son, can you turn up the volume?' when they're watching football together."

"Whatever. Changing the subject…how's the wedding planning going?"

"It's going well. It's going to be small, nothing too fancy…I'm going to ask the Glee club if they want to provide some entertainment; I know that it's close to Sectionals but we know enough sappy love songs to plow through it. Have you gotten your tux yet?"

"Kurt, it's in February! I have plenty of time. I'm sure you've got your entire ensemble planned out, though."

"Of course; what kind of man do you take me for?!" Kurt laughed and glanced down at his coffee, taking a long sip from it. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, and he blushed. Sometimes the way Blaine looked at him…

"Hey, I've got an idea," Blaine sprang from his seat and grabbed Kurt's hand, barely giving him enough time to secure his drink in his other one. He then dragged Kurt out of the coffee shop, out into the cold parking lot where it was snowing lightly. Kurt watched as his boyfriend let go of his hand to prance around the pavement, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue as they walked to his car.

"Are you sure that you're sixteen?" Kurt asked warily, "you look like you've lost about ten years of age right now."

"And _you _look like you've lost your ability to have fun right now. And excuse me, I'll be seventeen in just two months!"

"Yes. I'll be getting you some matchbox cars for your birthday."

"I think I need to go over there and warm up that cool mouth of yours." Blaine waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Kurt stuck out his tongue. "Ah! Yes, do it, catch a snowflake!" He clapped his hands and did a silly little dance.

"Oh my God, I really should be driving. I swear, you are six years old." Kurt rolled his eyes as he got into the passenger seat. "It's like I'm your baby sitter."

Blaine grinned at him as he got into the car and turned it on; Kurt muttered "asshole" under his breath. The beginning chords of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" immediately rang from the speakers, and Kurt couldn't resist but sing along. Blaine followed, their harmonies overpowering that of the radio. After practicing "Four Minutes" so much, Kurt and Blaine learned just how well their voices melded; how they fit together like puzzle pieces. It was a shame that Mr. Schue didn't recognize their collective talent and just gave Rachel solos.

Blaine parked the car, and Kurt realized they were at the same soccer field they'd gone to after their first coffee date at the Lima Bean—their first date _ever_. It had been surrounded by trees bursting with scarlet and gold foliage, and covered with emerald green grass under a bright cerulean sky. In contrast, the trees were bare, their branches like black veins and capillaries against the peculiar somber sky, snow falling from the clouds down to the bright expanse of untouched white, waiting for something to penetrate it.

A figure flew past him and sprinted into the snow, leaving a fresh track of foot prints behind him. Kurt watched as Blaine completed a series of cartwheels, round-offs, and handsprings across the field. He held up his hands in defeat a few minutes later, his chest heaving as he shouted "they're numb; can you come over and warm them for me?" to Kurt.

"I'm not wearing the proper footwear, though," Kurt looked down at his black lace-up boots: technically they'd be fine in the snow, but he could not bear the possibility of ruining them. Anyway, he knew that if he trudged into the white mass, snow would somehow find its way through his clothes and onto his bare skin, licking his flesh like icy flames.

He felt something cold and wet hit his chest, spraying particles across his jacket and up his face. Someone laughed nearby as he yelped in surprise; he looked up to see Blaine just a few feet in front of him, another snowball in his hands and a coy smile playing on his face.

"You—you—_ugh_!" Words failed Kurt as he bent down and scooped some white fluff into his hands and chucked it in Blaine's direction. The snowball sailed over his head and disintegrated before it even hit the ground. "Hence why I don't play any sports that involve thro—hey! _Stop_!" He admonished as Blaine pelted him with another icy blast. "That's it!" He left the car's side and marched onto the field, sprinting straight towards Blaine. He spread his arms out as if he was going to hug him: Blaine reciprocated the gesture, but let out a small _"umph!"_ in surprise as Kurt collided with him, sending them both into the snow. Straddling a wriggling Blaine, Kurt extended his hand, grabbed a handful of snow, and stuffed it into his boyfriend's face.

"Oh my God, I _hate_ you," Blaine laughed as he shook his head, looking up at Kurt with furrowed eyebrows and playful honey eyes.

"Here, let me help you with that," Kurt said as he bent down to cup Blaine's frigid cheeks, brushing the snow away while he kissed his frosty lips. Blaine made a happy sound in the back of his throat, his hands clutching at the front of Kurt's letterman Cheerio jacket. They stayed like that until Kurt felt that Blaine was properly warmed up again and broke away, his thumb sweeping the rest of the snow away from under his eyes. "Better?" he breathed.

"Mmm, I don't know; I still can't feel my lips," Blaine replied, and Kurt sighed. Their lips met again, and again, and again…

"Okay, okay, my butt is getting numb; I didn't drive us here just so we could make out in the snow," Blaine said a while later, his visible breath beating down on Kurt's nose.

"'_Just _so we could make out?'" Kurt queried, pulling away from Blaine so he could get up and dust the white from his legs and jacket. Blaine followed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Come on, help me out here," He bent down to make a little ball of snow, and then began rolling it around, causing it to accumulate even more and more until it was a large mass of fluff—

"We came here to make a _snowman_?!" Kurt asked incredulously as he started making the next ball.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not really, it's just…it's got to be like eight years since I made one."

"You know…sometimes you've just got to take a break from the real world and be a kid again."

* * *

(8:12) That picture on Facebook is unbearably adorable.

(8:14) **The bowtie was Blaine's idea. Actually, the whole thing was Blaine's idea. He was acting very childish yesterday.**

(8:16) Do you guys know what you're doing for Christmas yet? Finn and I are going ice skating, if you wanted to come along.

(8:20) **You don't celebrate Christmas? And we're already going out to dinner; it's going to be a half-Christmas-half-anniversary celebration.**

(8:22) Cute! Do you know where?

(8:23) **Nope—Blaine's adamant in keeping it a secret.**

(8:25) …he's so good to you, Kurt. Are you two okay after what happened today?

(8:30) **I think so. My back still hurts a bit from where it hit the lockers; Blaine was kind of quiet for the rest of the day. I would be texting him right now, but he said he has a lot of homework…he may not want to talk, and that's okay. He's had bad experiences with this before. I just don't understand why we can't walk down holding hands without being bothered. It's not like we were subjecting anyone to anything graphic, like how half of the population of this high school likes to shove their tongues down each other's throats in the hallways.**

(8:33) Karofsky and his friends are probably just jealous of the love you two share; don't get too hung up on it—unless it gets really bad, of course. We don't need our star performers to get injured or anything before Sectionals!

(8:35) **Or cheer nationals…maybe Coach can do something to stop it…ugh, that'll just make us look weak and she'll call us wimps, etc, so I don't want to bother her with it…**

(8:37) I've seen her supply football players with slushies before—that woman is evil.

(8:40) **Tell me about it. Well, I've got to go—I'm almost done with the lab, I can taste it!**

(8:42) Actually, I was wondering if you could help me :)

(8:45) **As I told Blaine the other day, I hate you, Rachel Berry.**

(8:46) !

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter; I swear the next one will be longer...


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